


Emma the Vampire Slayer

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 109,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Into every generation, a chosen one is born. She alone will fight against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shameless fusion fic. Completely and utterly. Mostly because I like the idea of Rumpel/Gold as Emma's semi-fairy-godfather, keeping an eye on her and steering her right. And since I started re-watching Buffy, somehow they morphed into Slayer and Watcher.
> 
> As a forewarning, the prologue is from Emma's POV. Mostly, because she wanted it that way to show how she met everyone, because she certainly wasn't going to be playing nice with everyone at school. The rest of the story is going to follow a semi-episodic format. I'm slightly alarmed by how long I suspect it will be. But yep. Will be attempting to update once a week, on a Tuesday.
> 
> See end notes for character-stuff.

August Seventeenth 2011 

Emma Swan arrived to take up the position of Slayer in Storybrooke. Miss Swan is several weeks from sixteen years of age, in good health, and has been classed as active since May twenty-fifth of this year, when she was called. 

Her previous Watcher, Oscar Zane, was killed in an altercation with a nest of vampires in Boston. Miss Swan dealt with the nest, but was unfortunately too late to save her Watcher.

She was accompanied in her transfer to Storybrooke by her younger brother, hereby referred to as H. The child is an unforeseen complication, as she refused to be separated from him and he is unaware of his sister’s position. He has been informed that they have been removed from the foster home they were residing in to Storybrooke as part of his sister’s rehabilitation. 

Though Miss Swan does not have any criminal convictions as yet, she has been transferred into my care under the pretence of a supervision order, as her last act in destroying the nest involved a stolen car, ram-raiding a building, and the liberal use of Molotov cocktails.

While she has shown ingenuity thus far, she is also stubborn and shows a blatant disregard for orders, even those that would save her life. Her duties aside, she displays almost fanatical devotion to her brother, from whom she has never been parted, despite ten years in the foster system.

Whether he proves a liability or a motivation remains to be seen.

A. Gold

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Gold! Hey, Gold! We got a problem!”

Emma shouldered the door of the store open. It was easier than trying to get up the stairs with an almost fully-grown man over her shoulder. Upstairs was bad anyway, because Henry would be up there, and Gold kept on telling her over and over that he couldn’t know about the stuff she killed on a daily basis.

Gold’s store was her training base and storehouse for all her weapons, as well as the place he used as an antiques store so he could keep his green card. The store was part of the three story house, where she and Henry lived with him as well. 

Gold flicked the lights on.

He always hung out in the store until she came back, in case she needed weapons or bandages or both.

“What’s this?” he inquired, leaning on his cane as he approached.

Emma knelt down, depositing the groaning Jeff Hatley on the floor. “This asshole followed me when I went on patrol,” she said, looking up at her Watcher. 

“And you thought to bring home a souvenir?”

She scowled at him. When he went all sarcasm it was either because he thought he was being funny or he was mad. Even after three weeks, she still couldn’t tell which. “No,” she said, pulling down the boy’s collar, showing the bite that was still oozing. “He got bit.”

Gold went down on his good knee, checking the boy’s pulse, and opening his eyes and other stuff that looked like he learned it from watching too many medical shows. “How quickly did you stop the vampire?”

“About three seconds after Jeff here screamed like a girl,” she replied. She hesitated, then said, “He saw me. That’s why I brought him here, instead of ditching him at the ER.”

“Saw you?” Gold’s voice was flat. “Saw you kill the vampire?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “What else would I be doing in a cemetery? I was fighting one when he showed up, and then I dusted the one that bit him.”

Gold rose, wincing and rubbing his leg. “People around here are very good at not noticing what’s right in front of them,” he said. “If you dropped him at the hospital, I’m sure he would have just believed it was his imagination.”

“Not this guy,” Emma said, putting her hand on Jeff’s chest. It was rising and falling slowly, and she could feel his heartbeat against her hand. “Gold, he’s always watching at school. Not just me. Everything. I think he knows something’s up about this place.”

Her Watcher tapped his fingers on the handle of the cane. “If he was, he would be the first,” he said. “They tend to keep their eyes closed, because if they don’t they would go mad, knowing how dark the world can be.”

“You manage,” she said, pulling a face. “And you’re sane.”

He inclined his head and smiled his not-smile. “Are you sure?”

Emma wrinkled her nose, then looked down when Jeff stirred. “What do we tell him?”

“Let him do the talking and use what he gives you,” Gold said, returning behind the counter and fetching the first-aid box. He tossed it to her. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned from being stitched back together, Miss Swan.”

She opened up the box and searched out the band aids and the sterile wipes. She had just finished cleaning Jeff’s throat when he opened his eyes. He didn’t say anything, not right away, but he just looked at her as she put the band aid on his neck.

“How you feeling?” she asked, for something to say.

“Like someone bit me,” he said, struggling to sit up. He put his hand against his neck. “Huh.” A watery smile crossed his face. “So I guess, this is what I get for going into a Storybrooke cemetery at night?”

“Maybe that’s what the cemetery workers call a hickey?” Emma winced as she said it.

“Cemetery workers?” Jeff stared at her. He had an intense stare, like he wanted to try and look right through her, and it made her shift awkwardly on her knees. “Right. And then you’re going to tell me you didn’t make one of them explode into dust?”

She heard Gold groan quietly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He kept on looking at her. “Big guy, face all screwed up like a dried-up plum, fangs, biting me, blood, you, wooden stick, poof, dust? Ringing any bells?”

She shrugged, shaking her head. “Maybe it’s the blood loss talking,” she suggested. “I found you on the ground. I thought a dog bit you.”

“A dog cemetery worker?”

Emma cringed. She wasn’t very good at the bullshitting.

“Anyway, I got it all on camera,” he added.

She could have sworn the air went icy. 

“What?” Gold said, his voice hard.

Jeff patted at his coat. “I knew there was something weird going on,” he said. “I saw Emma going to the cemetery through my telescope. I thought I should check it out, and I was filming it when…” 

“When you were bitten,” Emma said. She pushed her hand through her hair. “How much did you see?”

He grinned at her as he pulled out his cell, tapping the screen. “Enough to know you’re like a superhero. Was it Karate? Or Jujitsu?”

“Mostly just Don’t-Die-Oh,” Emma replied self-consciously. She looked up at Gold, who was rubbing his eyes. “Jeff, I know this must seem really weird…”

“No, it makes sense,” he said. “I always knew there was crazy stuff going on in town, but no one else ever believed me. They said I had an active imagination, even when I could have shown them all kinds of stuff through my telescope.”

“Because there’s nothing weird at all about a kid peeping on town with a telescope,” she said with a snort. “That’s kinda skeevy.”

“I’m not a peeping tom,” he said indignantly. “I watch the town.”

“Without them knowing?” Emma hauled him to his feet. “That sounds like a peeping tom to me.”

He shook his head, pulling his arm free from her hand. “It’s not like that,” he said. “It’s… it’s like you. You go walking in cemeteries to find bad guys. I look through my telescope to find bad guys. If I see something bad, I call the police and stop it.” His face fell. “They don’t believe me. No one ever did.” His expression brightened. “Not until now. You saw it, because you fought it, and I know I saw it too, because I have it on video!”

Emma stared at the screen, watching her tiny digital self taking out the vampire. She’d never seen herself fight before. “Huh. I look pretty hardcore.”

“Indeed,” Gold said, circling the desk. Before Jeff could stop him, he snatched the cell from Jeff’s hand. “And we’ll be keeping this for now.”

“Hey!”

Emma shrugged with a helpless smile. “Superhero,” she said. “I can’t have a secret identity if you’ve got a video of it on the internet.”

Jeff looked at her hopefully. “Do you need a sidekick? I mean, you already have an Alfred, but you need a Robin.”

Emma looked at Gold, who had rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Jeff, my job is dangerous,” she said, looking back at Jeff, who looked like he was about to start bouncing on the spot. “You could get killed.”

“Yeah? Sounds exciting!”

Emma wondered if it was too late to knock him out and drop him at the ER.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was just getting a drink.”

Emma leaned sideways on her chair to look around the edge of the soda machine. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

Regina Mills folded her arms over her chest. “Mary Mildred…”

“Margaret,” Mary Margaret Blanchard corrected.

Regina glowered at her. “Whatever,” she said, “you took the last of the diet soda. I wanted that, and you stepped in front of me, when I was obviously coming to use the machine.”

Mary Margaret looked at the can in her hand. “Well, we can trade, if you want?” she offered.

“If you’re that desperate for soda, yeah, you could,” Emma said, getting up to stand by Mary Margaret’s side. “Or you could just drink something else.”

Regina stared at her, then huffed. “Like I’d want it after she’s warmed it up,” she said, turning and stalking off.

Emma looked at the other girl. “You can’t let people talk to you like that,” she said. “Or else she’ll be the first in a long line of people walking all over you.” She dropped back into her seat, kicking her foot up onto one of the three vacant chairs. 

“Getting hostile at her will only make her worse,” Mary Margaret said. 

To Emma’s surprise, Mary Margaret sat down on the edge of one of the seats. Most people didn’t bother her, not after she’d been seen taking down one of the jocks who tried to grope her on the stairs. Or talk to her, for that matter, but she didn’t mind that so much.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Mary Margaret flushed, her snow-white skin going beet-red. “Oh,” she said. “Um, do you mind?”

Emma waved her back into the seat. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I just wondered why you didn’t.” She grinned crookedly. “I’m not exactly Miss Popular after kicking Tony’s ass. God knows Regina made sure everyone knew about it.”

Mary Margaret smiled tentatively. “She’s good at that,” she said. “You know you’ve made it in Storybrooke High if Queen Mills has spread a story about you.” She looked across towards the cafeteria, then leaned closer and ask. “Is it true that Jeff Hatley hangs around with you? Everyone says he’s kind of weird.”

“Jeff?” Emma considered the boy in question. “Yeah, he’s living off in his own crazy world half the time, but he’s harmless.” She raised a hand in greeting as Jeff weaved his way towards them, a tray laden with snacks in his arms. “You took your time.”

Jeff set the tray down. He was wearing a colourful hat which he swept off and bowed. “If I’d known we were expecting company, I would have got more jello,” he said, throwing himself into the seat opposite Emma. “Mary, right?”

“Mary Margaret,” the other girl said. She looked doubtfully at the tray which was stacked high with chips and candy, as well as jello. “That doesn’t look like a balanced meal.”

Emma snatched one of the bowls of jello. “The tray didn’t tip over,” she said, “so it’s pretty well-balanced.”

“Like a tea tray in the sky,” Jeff said cheerfully.

“That’s a bat,” Mary Margaret said. “Lewis Carroll, right?”

Jeff grinned, offering one of the six pots of jello. “Good call,” he said. “So why are you sitting with us?”

“Regina was being… well… herself,” Emma said. Jeff pulled a face. “Yeah. Pretty much my thoughts.”

Jeff stared at Mary Margaret thoughtfully. “You know what you need…” he began.

“Ixnay,” Emma said sharply. Jeff had been good at keeping her secret so far, but any time she sat with anyone for too long, even if it was for a class project or study group, he would try to find a place for them in a group of sidekicks.

If Mary Margaret was puzzled or offended, she didn’t show it.

“I don’t know why you don’t have more people,” Jeff complained, as they made their way to Gold’s antique store after school. “I get it that there’s only one Slayer, chosen one and all that, but having back up isn’t a bad thing. Mary Margaret is okay. A bit of a loner, but she’s smart and we need smart.”

“I work better alone,” Emma said. “When you have people to watch out for, you’re never going to put all your focus on what you have to do. You’ll spend too much time worrying about what’s happening to them.”

Jeff snorted. “You sound just like Gold,” he said.

“You try getting lectures from him day and night,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, he’s like a walking instruction manual.” She pushed open the door of the shop and stopped dead. “Henry? What are you doing down here?”

Her brother was sitting on the stool behind the counter, doing his homework. “Mr Gold said he had some stuff to do,” he said. “He told me I should bring my homework down so I wasn’t in the house on my own.”

Mr Gold didn’t like Henry in the store, but the one thing he liked even less was when Henry was left on his own in the house above the store, especially when there was something new and dangerous on the rise. 

Emma had asked him about it once. He looked at her coolly, and told her that if someone was responsible for a child, then they should not leave them home alone in a town like Storybrooke. He went on to list all the demons and monsters that could come for Henry when he was alone, and by the time he got to skin-peelers, she’d heard enough.

All the same, she knew what it meant: if Henry was in the shop, that meant something bad was coming.

“Where’s Gold?”

He waved a hand towards the back room that was where the weapons, books, and all slaying equipment was kept. “He says I have to stay through here,” he said without enough of a pout to make Emma sigh.

“You know he keeps the dangerous stuff back there,” she said, ruffling Henry’s hair as she passed him. “It’s for your own good.” She glanced at Jeff. “You wanna help Henry with his homework?”

Jeff shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “What you working on, Henry?”

Emma didn’t hear his reply as she headed into the back of the store.

Gold was bent over an ancient book, which wasn’t exactly a new sight. “Miss Swan,” he said. “A productive day?”

“I didn’t get sent to the principal again, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “What’s with all the books?”

“That demon amulet you brought me last week is apparently quite significant,” he said, turning to look at her. Half of his face was bruised, and his eye swollen shut. 

“God! What happened to you? Are you okay?”

He waved away her concern. “It was only a brief beating before they took the amulet,” he said. “I was trying to find what it might be used for, and I think you’ll need to take the big guns with you tonight.”

Emma winced. “That bad?”

“Worse,” he replied. “You’ve seen Dawn of the Dead, I expect?”

“Zombies?” Emma stared at him. “You’re serious?”

“Unfortunately,” he said with a curt nod. “Don’t worry, dearie. I have a fine selection of weapons for you. Have you ever used a flame-thrower before?”

“Only one I made out of a lighter and my hairspray,” she replied. “You got a real one?”

“Only the best playthings for you,” he said with that half-smile that she was starting to recognise as teasing. “You’ll need to have a blade as well, in case any of them get close, but if you’re quick, you may be able to get rid of them in one go.”

“I got fire, I got a sword,” she said. “Point in the right direction and I’m gone.”

“After dinner,” he cautioned. “Henry would ask too many questions if you went out straight away.”

She sighed and nodded. “Fine. But you know I hate fighting on a full stomach.” She glanced back through to the shop. “You know the drill.”

“His case is in the car,” he said, “but it won’t be needed.”

“You always say that,” she said, looking down at the book.

“And you have never yet proved me wrong,” he replied. “You’re more powerful than you realise, Miss Swan. One day, you may understand what that means.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Slayer, Chosen, warrior. So you keep saying.” She closed the book over. “You want the necklace back? Or do I bust that too?”

“Destroy it,” he said. “But only after the creatures are dead.”

“Kill, torch, smash.” Emma flashed him a quick smile. “Sounds like my kind of night.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Of course there had to be a virgin sacrifice. 

As if the zombies had been bad enough, demons came to Storybrooke far too often, and yup, they just had to have a virgin. On the up side, Emma knew she was totally safe. On the down side, there were people she knew who weren’t.

Emma didn’t know who felt more awkward when she stepped over the trailing innards and wiped the blood from her axe to cut Mary Margaret free. It hadn’t been a clean kill, because the demons were just too big, all tentacles and horns and parts.

“Um. Thank you.” Mary Margaret slid down from the stone altar.

Emma shrugged. “No problem,” she said, fiddling with the axe. “You okay?”

“Apart from almost being sacrificed by…” She looked around the clearing. “Are those really demons?”

Emma ran her thumb over the head of the axe. “Kinda.”

“And you killed them?”

Emma cleared her throat. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Emma, you saved my life!” Mary Margaret threw her arms around Emma, even though she was sticky and bloody and covered in something Emma just hoped was slime and not some kind of internal organ bits. “Thank you!”

Emma fidgeted. “You want clothes?” she asked, looking anywhere but Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret blushed from head to toe. “Oh God!” She tried to cover herself as much as she could with her hands. “I-I forgot.”

“Well, yeah,” Emma stripped off her knee-length coat and offered it. “Being almost sacrificed to Thylxtel will do that to you.” She looked around with a wince. “You’re going to have to walk through some of the parts to get out.”

“As long as they’re not walking through my parts,” Mary Margaret said, holding up her hands, “I’m good.” Emma stared at her and Mary Margaret gave her a sheepish smile back. “I guess that was kind of gross?”

“Kind of less screaming-and-shock than I’m used to,” Emma said, offering the other girl her hand to help her across the mess of demon parts.

Mary Margaret looked at her in astonishment. “You’ve done this before?”

“Ha!” Emma snorted, kicking aside a ribcage. “Try every night. I’ll be back here with a shovel in an hour to hide the worst of it.”

“And you go to High school too?”

Emma snorted. “I don’t know which part sucks more,” she said. “The demon-killing part or double-math on Tuesdays.” They reached the edge of the clearing and Emma pushed aside a low branch. “This way,“ she said. “Mr Gold’s got the car nearby. He’ll get you home safe.”

“Mr Gold?” Mary Margaret stumbled along beside her. “The antique-guy? He knows you do this?”

“Sort of? He kind of trains me.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, a dazed look on her face. “And this whole time, I thought you were just sleeping in class because you were bored.”

“Well, I was,” Emma said, “but I was tired too.” She found the way back to the path and led Mary Margaret on towards Mr Gold and the car. They had left Jeff watching TV in the house and keeping one eye on the sleeping Henry. “Hey, Gold.”

“You were in time, I see,” he said. “Do I need to put sheeting down on the seats?”

“She’s a victim, Gold,” Emma said, tossing her axe in the trunk. “Not an excited puppy.”

“It might be a good idea,” Mary Margaret said, looking down at herself. “I am kinda… sticky.” She looked up. “I mean with blood and demony stuff. Not…”

“We know what you meant, dearie,” Gold said. “Sheeting it is.” Emma pulled to roll from the trunk and handed it over to him. “You can,” he added, “of course, tell no one about what has happened tonight. They wouldn’t believe you.”

Oh, believe me,” Mary Margaret replied. “I wasn’t planning on telling a soul. That wasn’t my idea of the perfect evening, and I really don’t want the school to know what I was doing.” She looked at Emma. “Thank you. Again.”

Emma lifted the shovel out of the trunk. “All in a day’s work,” she said. “Or night. It’s usually night.” She nudged Mary Margaret into the car. “You get home and get washed up or it won’t come off.”

Mary Margaret squeaked in alarm, clambering into the car.

“I thought you were meant to be the brave hero,” Gold said, closing the door on Mary Margaret. “Not the one terrorising the young?”

Emma shot him a rueful smile. “What can I say? My Watcher is a bad influence.” She shouldered the shovel. “I’ll make my own way home once I’m done here.” She looked over her shoulder. “I miss vampires. At least they clean up after themselves.”

“Alas, you are fated to be the Slayer and that means all dark creatures.”

Emma pulled a face. “Next time, you’re on clean-up,” she said, turning and stomping back into the woods.

It was nearly two hours before she finally peeled off her bloody boots on the back step of the house and snuck up the stairs. Gold was waiting with a cup of hot chocolate for her. He had even sprinkled it with cinnamon, which he usually forgot.

“I must have done good,” she said, stepping on the trail of newspaper across the floor to approach him. “Mary Margaret’s okay?”

“Aside from being as curious as a cat, very well,” he said. “I’m afraid Henry managed to sneak into your bed again.”

Emma smiled crookedly. “He does that,” she admitted, taking a sip of the hot chocolate and sighing with pleasure. She looked down at herself. “I’ll clean up. You can go to bed, if you want. I’m good.”

Gold looked her up and down. “Unhurt?”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” she said, waving him away. “Shoo.”

She waited until he was gone and his door was closed before she tugged up her shirt, admiring the black bruises that covered her ribs. They would be gone by morning, even if they hurt like hell for a while.

She padded through the house to the bathroom and washed the worst of the demon gunk off her, brushing out and braiding her wet hair, before making her way back to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t like Henry didn’t have his own room with all the cool stuff he could ever want. That didn’t make a difference. He would still sneak into her bed, because of that one time the social worker had taken them to separate homes. 

Henry had been seven. Emma had just turned thirteen. He had been led from the car, crying, and she had kept her eyes on the road, remembering the route they took, how to get there. That night, she busted out of her new home, taking money from the foster carer’s wallet, and got back across town by bus and hitchhiking. His carers found her wrapped around him the next morning, and she’d never let anyone take him from her again.

Sometimes, he was still afraid of that.

She lifted the covers on the bed, settling down beside him. He turned over onto his side and wrapped his arms around her middle at once.

“Hey,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Can’t sleep?”

Henry shook his head. “I had a bad dream,” he whispered, “and you weren’t here.”

She hugged him closer. Nightmares were the one thing she couldn’t protect him from, and he had them so often. “I was out, making sure the bad guys are staying away,” she said, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly. “I kicked their asses so they can’t come and bother you.”

Her brother sniffed quietly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, pressing her cheek to his hair. “Don’t you worry, Henry. It was only I nightmare. I’ll look after you.”

He clung to her tighter and she bit her lip to keep from making a sound when his fingers pressed against her cracked ribs. He had to be protected and he had to know he was safe. If he knew what she did, if he knew how often she got hurt, his nightmares would only get worse.

“I’m here,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”


	2. End of the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be slightly addicted to this story. To say nothing of the characters I'm having cameo left, right and centre :D So many people, so little time!

“No luck?”

Ricky tugged on his line, making the water ripple around it. “Nothing yet.”

Abi sat down on the edge of the pier beside him, looking down into the water. “It looks quieter than usual for this time of year,” she said. “You sure you don’t want to call it a day? I’ve closed up the stall already.”

“If I stay here a while longer, does that mean you’ll stay with me?” he said, brown eyes widening innocently. 

Abi nudged his shoulder with hers. “Would you want me to?”

Ricky laughed and leaned closer to claim a quick kiss. “You know I would,” he said.

Abi blushed. “Even when I’m all buggy?” she said. She had been working in her father’s fishing kiosk for half the day, and even if it wasn’t exactly busy, spending that much time around that many different kinds of bait made her feel gross. 

He looked her up and down. “You don’t look buggy to me,” he said. He claimed another kiss, and that turned into another. 

Abi slipped her arm through his, her other hand curling into his hair.

Four feet below them, something stirred in the water.

They broke apart, and Ricky grabbed his rod. “Sorry,” he said with a crooked grin.

“Hey, I know not to bother a fisherman when there’s something on his line,” she said with a laugh. “You reel it in and we’ll call it dinner.”

Ricky’s face lit up. “It’s a date,” he said, as she gathered up the pails that stood along the edge of the pier. As much as the fishermen paid well, they weren’t exactly good at cleaning up after themselves. “Huh.”

“What is it?” she called over her shoulder.

“Something big,” Ricky said, scrambling to his feet and bracing himself against one of the posts. His rod was bent in an arc, the line pulled tight. “Unless it got caught in something under the pier.”

Something sleek and silver was resting against the edge of the pier at Ricky’s feet. He was staring down at it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing but as she got closer, she saw arms, and a human-like body, and a face framed by long, red hair was looking up at him. 

Even from a dozen steps away, she could hear it murmuring, a strange, haunting sound that went right down her spine like ice. She barely got a glimpse before she saw scaled hands catch Ricky’s ankles and jerk his legs from beneath him. He fell and the… thing started pulling him off the pier, into the water.

“Hey!” Abi yelled, swinging one of the heavy metal buckets in an overarm stroke.

The thing turned, its face beautiful for a split-second, then inhuman, with needle-sharp teeth and wide, round, jet-black eyes. Her pail hit it square in the face. She heard it shriek and it let go of Ricky, plunging back down into the water.

Ricky struggled into a sitting position, blinking hard. “Did you see her?” he asked. “The girl? Did you see her?”

Abi looked down into the water, which was still rippling. “I saw something,” she said, “but it definitely wasn’t a girl.” 

 

___________________________________________________

 

 

“Mary Margaret Blanchard, what time do you call this?”

Mary Margaret winced, all attempts at closing the door quietly in vain. “Sorry, dad,” she said, turning to look at her father. He was sitting in his pyjamas and dressing gown, and had turned his favourite armchair towards the front door to wait for her.

Leopold Blanchard was an old-fashioned man. Mary Margaret loved him, but his rules were the same as they had been when she was twelve: no staying out after eight o’clock, no boys in the house, no slumber parties.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Mary Margaret fidgeted. It was impossible to tell him the truth, because if he knew she had been hanging out in graveyards, waiting for vampires to rise, she knew she would have not only been grounded, but sent to the psychiatrist the next morning. 

“I went over to Emma’s,” she said, which was technically kind of sort of a little bit true. “I was helping her with her homework.”

Her father sighed. “You’re spending a lot of time with this Emma Swan,” he said. “I’ve heard people mention her in the store, Mary Margaret. They say she’s a trouble-maker. You know you shouldn’t spend time with trouble-makers. They’re a bad influence.”

“Emma isn’t a trouble-maker, dad,” Mary Margaret said patiently. “People spread stories about her, because she’s new in town. She’s watched out for me.” She felt the words ‘saved my life’ creeping onto her tongue and bit down on them quickly. “She’s just behind in classes because she had to move here from another town.”

Her father patted the arm of his chair and she crossed the floor to sit on the arm. “You know I worry about the company you keep,” he said, taking one of her hands, and Mary Margaret nodded, lowering her eyes. It was the same reason he gave for everything: “When I lost your mother…”

“That was an accident, dad,” she said quietly, but it was too late. He had waited up to give her a lecture, and even if she walked away, even if she fell asleep, he would give it. But she stayed, letting him hold onto her hand.

It was a story she had heard too many times before: her mother, the town beauty, had gone out with friends to celebrate her return to work after Mary Margaret started kindergarten. They had all had a little bit too much to drink, and when some drunks started harassing them, they had been sober enough to walk away, but not quite sober enough to avoid a confrontation. In the tussle that followed, her mother fell, hit her head, and never regained consciousness. 

It was the same cautionary tale he always used: don’t drink, don’t go out late, don’t mingle with boys, don’t get into fights, don’t mix with trouble-makers, don’t do anything that anyone human would consider fun.

Mary Margaret gazed blankly at his hand in hers. 

It was true she was small like her mother, and she wasn’t good at sticking up for herself, which was why she was almost slaughtered on a demonic altar only a few days earlier, but she wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t going to go and argue with one of the town drunks like her mother did that fatal night. She was just… going to sit in cemeteries and watch undead things that wanted to eat her crawl out of their graves.

She almost groaned.

Maybe she was more like her mother than she thought.

She realised her father had stopped talking and was looking at her in expectation. It was always the same. Lecture and then automatically assuming acquiescence. She smiled tiredly.

“I’m sorry, dad,” she said. “If we have another homework date, I’ll let you know first and I’ll give you Mr Gold’s number if you need to find me in a hurry.”

“Oh, yes,” her father said darkly. “There’s something very strange about that man. What reason does he have for taking on a pair of orphans?”

“I don’t know, dad,” Mary Margaret lied, rising. “I think Emma said he was their great uncle or something. Can I go to bed now?”

Her father looked sternly at her, then nodded. “You’re a good girl, Mary Margaret,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you, like I lost her.”

She tried to smile. “You won’t, dad,” she said. “I promise. I don’t pick fights with anyone, especially not drunk guys.” A strange, sad look crossed her father’s face. She leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, dad.”

His hand brushed hers. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Be good.”

She nodded, turning away before he could see the flush shading across her cheeks. The door of her bedroom was ajar, and she hurried in, closing it after her and locking it with the ornate iron key. It felt awful lying to him, but she couldn’t stay closed up in the apartment, watching life go by, knowing that Emma was out there, fighting monsters and demons with hardly anyone to help her.

Mary Margaret crossed the floor to pick up the photograph of herself with her parents that stood on her dresser. She looked like her mom, now, but she didn’t know if she really was anything like her. The story that overshadowed everything was the anonymous drunk who knocked her over with a push and killed her. 

“What would you think of Emma?” she asked the picture in a whisper. “What would you think if you knew I was trying to help fight monsters?”

As always, the picture was silent.

Mary Margaret sighed, setting it down, and got changed for bed.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

“So, fish-woman?”

Gold looked up at Emma, his eyebrows rising. “Is that what I said?”

Emma leaned her hip against the workbench and looked down at the books that were open in front of him. “No, but what’s what she looks like,” she said, pointing at one of the woodcuts in the book. “A fish-woman.”

“She was described as being covered in scales like a fish or a serpent,” he said, “with red hair. It sounds like she was using a glamour to catch the attention of the fisherman, to make herself seem attractive to him.”

“Red-haired fish-woman?” Emma widened her eyes in mock-horror. “Oh God. Don’t tell me I have to fight the little mermaid?”

Gold tapped his fingertips on the desk, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “It’s only speculation at the moment,” he said. “My source at the police station had a report of something strange down at the pier yesterday afternoon, and this is as close to the description as I can find.”

Emma straightened up from the bench. “Do I need to put my investigation hat on?” she asked.

Gold raised his eyes to her. “Excuse me?”

“My investigation hat,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes. “Jeff made me one. It has ‘Investigation’ stitched into it.” He chuckled. “It’s not funny, Gold! He thinks this is some kind of game.”

“He knows the risks as well as I,” Gold said. “We can’t stop him from risking his neck. If he wasn’t trailing around after you, he would be doing it himself, and we all know how that would end.”

“Here lies Jeff Hatley, resting in pieces,” Emma said with a snort. 

“Where is he, anyway? I expected him to be sniffing around on a weekend.”

Emma shrugged. “He said he had a family tea party,” she said. “I think he wanted me to give him an excuse to get out of it, but I wanted a day off.” She waved a hand. “So. Investigation. Do you want me to go to the pier and have a look around?”

Gold nodded. “If you can find Abigail King, she was the one who reported the creature to the police,” he said. “She said it tried to pull one of the fishermen into the water.”

“And if I find something?”

“It may be harmless,” he reminded her.

“Because pulling guys into the sea is fun?” she said. 

He smiled wryly. “Point,” he agreed. “If you can take care of it, I would recommend you do so.”

“That’s what I figured,” Emma said with a nod.

Gold glanced down at his books. “You could take Henry,” he said. 

“What? Is this ‘Take your kid to slay’ day?”

He gave her a stern look. “That wasn’t the intention,” he said. “There’s an arcade near the pier. If you explained that you had to collect something for me, he could wait there. It would give you some time together out of the house, and you could take him for some of that junk food you both enjoy before you go.”

Emma hesitated. “What if I have to kill something? What if I end up covered in demon-gunk?”

“You fell into a fishing boat and landed in the fish,” Gold said. “Or some other equally uncreative lie. The boy needs to be out of the house on a weekend, and he feels safest when you go with him.”

Emma pulled on the dagger that rested against her spine, then her jacket over the top. “This is just so you can go to that antique market, isn’t it?”

Gold folded his hands together on top of the books. “I have a great deal of work to do and not much time to do it with a teenager and a young boy in the house.”

“Yeah right,” Emma said, snorting. “I’ll go get Henry. He was watching the TV.”

Gold watched her go, then closed up the books. Water spirits were not uncommon in folklore and mythology, but he wasn’t familiar with such superstitions on this side of the Atlantic. If that meant he had an excuse to seek out new reference material at the antique market, then he saw no reason not to go.

He made his way up into the house.

Henry was pulling his shoes on and beaming. “We’re going to the arcade!” he said.

“So I heard,” Gold said, glancing at Emma, who had her arms folded as she leaned against the wall. She rolled her eyes at him, but she was happy to spend time with her brother, he could tell. He drew out his wallet, and withdrew several notes. “Make a day of it.”

Emma eyed the notes warily. “You sure?”

He glanced at Henry, who was smiling genuinely for the first time in days. “I’m sure,” he said. “Have fun.” He met her eyes. “And don’t get into trouble.”

“Like I’d ever do that,” Emma said. She held out her hand to Henry. “You ready?”

The boy grinned happily. “See you later, Mr Gold.”

Gold smiled. “Have a good day, Henry.”

 

_____________________________________________________

 

“This will do nicely.”

Mary Margaret looked around to see what her father was holding. “Dad, you already have a fishing rod,” she said, “and it’s a much more modern one than that.”

Her father examined the rod critically. “But this is a traditional fly-fishing rod.” He smiled broadly at her. “Who knows? It might be just what I need. Old-fashioned man like me, I can’t fish with one of those modern contraptions. I might actually catch something with this.”

She shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Maybe,” she said. She set down the crossbow she was examining when he looked down at it suspiciously. “Just letting my inner Robin Hood out,” she said ruefully. “I’m done.”

“I suppose it’s a little better than a gun,” he said with a lop-sided smile. 

Mary Margaret laughed. “Well, there’s a blunderbuss over there…” she said, pointing.

“And it can stay there,” he said sternly, a twinkle in his eye.

Mary Margaret stuck out her tongue. “It’s not as if I could lift it anyway,” she said. She looked around the other stalls that lined the City Hall. “Dad, is if okay if I go and have a look at the book stall?”

Leopold Blanchard smiled fondly. “Of course.”

Mary Margaret squeezed through the crowds surging this way and that towards the table laden with books. Her father didn’t need to know she had spotted a familiar face, who was much more interesting than the books. 

Mr Gold was looking flustered, holding out a book to a young woman. “Honestly, dearie, you had it first,” he said.

Mary Margaret paused, lips twitching. 

The woman was the school librarian, Miss French, and she was looking at him earnestly. “If I had it first, why did my hand land on yours?” she said. “It’s your book. I can find another copy.” She patted him on the arm companionably. “Or I could borrow it some time.”

Gold looked at her in bewilderment. “Yes. Yes, you could borrow it…” he said, then noticed Mary Margaret on the other side of the table, fighting to hide a grin. “Miss Blanchard,” he said, his expression smoothing out into the placid mask she was used to. He turned back to the woman. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Miss French stepped aside with a smile. “No problem,” she said, moving towards the other end of the book table.

Mary Margaret looked at Gold with a grin. “So, you met the librarian, huh?”

“We came to a… minor disagreement over a book,” he said, his brows drawing together in a warning glower. He turned it over in his hand.

“Local folklore?” Mary Margaret said, frowning. “Is something bad coming? Something from around here?”

“It’s possible,” he said, “which is why I was looking here for more archaic information.”

“What kind of something?” Mary Margaret asked eagerly.

“Mary Margaret?”

She spun with a squeak at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

Her father was standing just shy of her, looking at Gold with suspicion. 

“Mr Blanchard,” Gold said, inclining his head. 

“Gold,” her father replied just as civilly. 

Gold held up the book in his hand. “I was just seeking your daughter’s advice,” he said. “As you know, I’m not local, and was on the hunt for information about the area.” He looked at Mary Margaret, who mouthed a desperate ‘thank you’ at him. “So, Miss Blanchard, would you recommend this type of book?”

“If it’s only mythology you’re looking for, it’s not bad,” she said. “There are a few on urban legends, if you need them as well?”

“Mythology will suffice for now,” Gold said. “That’s what I’m researching.” He smiled thinly at Mary Margaret’s father. “I find it very important to know the history of an area, when I work in the field that I do.”

“Antiques, isn’t it?” 

Gold inclined his head. “Precisely,” he said. “Things that are very old, and often buried very deep.” He looked at the book once more, then back at Mary Margaret and her father. “If you’ll pardon me, I have some dealing to do.”

“Strange man,” Leopold Blanchard murmured as Gold walked away, leaning on his cane.

“He’s okay,” Mary Margaret said. She glanced down at her father’s hand. “You got the rod?”

He held up the case. “It came with all the essential parts,” he said. 

“And if you can’t catch anything with this one, you’ll call it quits?” she asked hopefully.

“Ye of little faith,” he said, smiling.

 

__________________________________________________

 

The plan was a good one, in theory.

Henry would stay in the arcade. Emma would go and do her thing.

It would have been perfect if Henry had been willing to let her out of his sight to go on a slaying venture. But no. The second she made to go and kill things to keep him safe, he abandoned his game and caught her hand.

She knew she could have insisted, and he would have listened, but she also knew he hated when she walked away from him, and as long as that still bothered him, she promised herself she would never do it.

He was still holding her hand when they reached the pier.

It was a cold day, windy and wet, and it looked like the usual fishing spots had been abandoned. The fishing kiosk was still open, even if the glass shutter was pulled closed and the girl inside was reading. 

“Can I go along and look at the boats?” Henry asked, pointing to the handful of small private boats tied up at the far end of the pier.

Emma hesitated. “We’ll go up together, in a minute,” she said. She motioned to the bench half a dozen steps from the kiosk. “Sit down. Mr Gold asked me to come and speak to this lady. It’ll take a few minutes.”

“Is it about bugs?” Henry asked, glancing at the sign.

Emma shuddered. “No. Totally not about bugs.” She waved him to the bench, giving him a look she had learned off Gold. “And don’t go anywhere.”

Henry grinned at her. “Do I get extra ice cream if I stay still?”

“Extra with sprinkles,” she agreed, nudging his shoulder. “Go.”

By the time he was on the bench, she had knocked on the glass.

The girl slid the panel open. She was older than Emma, but not by much. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Abigail King,” Emma said with an awkward smile. Talking to strangers wasn’t her strong suit. “It’s about the thing that attacked the fisherman.”

The girl slammed her book closed and leaned closer to the window. “If you’ve come here to tell me it was all my imagination,” she said fiercely, “then you can go jump off the pier.”

Emma stared at her. “No,” she said. “I’m not. I know someone who studies things like that. Weird things. He couldn’t come himself, but he wanted me to come by and ask you if you could describe it.”

Abigail King’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t think I’m going crazy?”

“Believe me,” Emma said with a rueful laugh. “After some of the things I’ve seen, a fish-woman-thing isn’t that hard to accept.”

The girl pushed her book aside, folding her arms on the counter. “This person you know,” she said. “Why does he want to know about it?”

“To find out how dangerous it is,” Emma answered frankly. “If it’s dangerous, there are ways it can be dealt with. He just needs to know what he’s dealing with before anything can be done.”

“It’s definitely dangerous,” Abigail said at once. “It came up out of the water and grabbed Ricky - the fisherman - by the ankles. It was trying to pull him in.” She shook her head. “He said it looked beautiful, but when it looked at me, it looked like one of those deep-sea fish with too many teeth and eyes too big for its head.”

“How big was it?” Emma asked.

“Big enough for it to still be partly in the water,” Abigail replied. “And it was covered in scales. It was human-shaped, from the waist up, but it just… wasn’t.” She shook her head. “I saw red hair and thought he’d pulled in someone who had fallen off a boat, but then I saw the scales. When she pulled him…” A rueful smile crossed her face. “I hit it with a pail and it let go.”

“Good choice.”

“Emma!” Henry called.

“Just a second,” she called back to him. “What colour was this thing?”

“Silver,” Abigail replied at once. “Silver scales all over. Red hair. Black eyes.”

Emma nodded. “We’ll do some searc…”

“Emma!” Henry’s voice was more determined. “Emma, there’s someone in the water! Look! She’s waving!”

Emma felt like her blood had turned to ice.

She turned and he was kneeling up on the bench, looking over the pier’s rail.

She ran from the kiosk in time to see a silvery woman break through the waves. She looked beautiful, smiling and red-haired, her focus on Henry, then her eyes fixed on Emma. Teeth too long for her mouth were bared, and she dived back under the water, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake. 

“Oh,” Henry said, disappointed. 

“Maybe she had some place to be,” Emma said, staring down at the water, trying to see if the creature was still there. She put her arm around Henry’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to get back to Mr Gold.”

“But you said we’d have ice cream…”

“If you sat still,” Emma said, steering him back towards dry land, where she knew what she was fighting. “You didn’t.”

“But I didn’t get off the seat,” he protested.

“You still moved,” she said, her voice loud and sharp in her own ears. Her arm tightened around his shoulder. “You were meant to stay still.”

Her heart was thundering. What if she hadn’t turned around when she did? What if he hadn’t said anything? What if the fish-woman had managed to snatch him while she was right there? She didn’t even know what would have happened to him, if he was taken.

Henry was quiet, as if he was afraid she would snap at him again, and hardly said a word all the way back to the house. She could feel him trembling, and she knew, knew, she should apologies, explain, do something, but all she could see were those long, needle-sharp teeth, and imagine what they would have done to her brother.

As soon as she opened the door, he squirmed free from her and fled up the stairs to the house above the store.

Emma closed the door, sagging against it.

She was meant to protect him and she had practically fed him to a monster because she wasn’t paying attention. Her hands were shaking. Even though she knew she had to be strong and to go and kill the thing, her hands were shaking.

It took her several minutes to gather herself, then she opened the door beside the stairs that led into the store.

“Gold?” She wanted to swear aloud when her voice cracked.

“Through here,” he called from the back of the store.

She wiped her palms on her pants and pushed through the curtain. 

Gold was sitting at the workbench, poring over one of the books. “Any success?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma said, wrapping her arms around her middle. “It wanted to make Henry into a starter.”

Gold looked up, startled. “He was meant to stay out of harm’s way.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “He’s safe. He’s upstairs.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling, blinking hard. “He probably won’t speak to me for a week, since I didn’t buy him ice cream.”

“As long as he’s all right, that’s what matters,” Gold said. His voice had softened. “Did you see it?”

Emma nodded, drawing steadying breaths. “Yeah. Silver scales. Fish-face with big pointy teeth when it saw me.” She looked down at him. “I don’t think it’s fish-woman, though. Abigail said that its body was long enough to reach up onto the pier but still be in the water.”

“Some kind of sea serpent, then?”

“Could be.” She paced along behind him. “It looked like a pretty, red-haired girl, right up until the second that it didn’t.”

“Red-haired?” Gold leafed rapidly through the book. It looked old and it was tossing up dust, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His fingertips skimmed down page after page until he sat back with a satisfied smile. “I believe we have our demon,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“It’s a local creature,” he said. “An Apotamkin.” He turned on the stool to look at her. “It’s something like the sirens of Greek mythology or the Rusalka or…” He paused. “You don’t really care what it’s like, do you?”

“Nope,” she said. “I want to know what it is and how to kill it.”

“An Apotamkin,” he said again. “For want of a better description, it sounds like it’s part-sea-snake, part-vampire, but not quite either.”

“Close enough to fall under my job description,” Emma said as steadily as she could. “How do I kill it?”

“It’s not a vampire, not really,” he said. “I would say it should be treated like a large snake. It normally inhabits the waters up in the Passamaquoddy bay, but it may have ventured south looking for food.”

“In my town.” Emma looked at him blankly. “So it needs to be in pieces, then. It’s not getting any food out of Storybrooke’s harbour, no matter how mythological it is.” She looked at the weapon rack. “I’ll need an axe. I don’t think a sword would be enough.”

“I’ll look something out,” he murmured, watching her. “But not tonight.”

“Gold, that thing could hurt someone.”

“Who would be out fishing at night in September in Maine?” he said. “No. You won’t hunt tonight. You’ll need daylight.” He nodded upwards, towards the house. “And tonight, you have someone who may need reassurance.”

She wanted to refuse, to go and hack the thing to pieces, but he was right. 

Henry needed her.

“Fine,” she said in a whisper. 

Gold looked down at his book, smoothing the page. “Go to him, Miss Swan,” he said quietly. “And try not to think on what might have been. Focus on what is.”

Emma nodded, her arms wrapped around her middle, her fingers biting into her waist, as she made her way towards the stairs.

 

____________________________________________________

 

“You’re serious? There’s some kind of psychotic mermaid in the bay and no one noticed?”

Gold looked at Jeff in exasperation. “It isn’t a mermaid,” he said. “It’s a native beast, more like a sea serpent than human.”

“With red hair and luring men into the water? Sounds like Ariel to me,” Jeff said with conviction. He looked at Emma. “So how do we kill it? Is it going to be like Jaws? Do we blow stuff up?”

Gold paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “No,” he said finally. “It would draw too much attention.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, turning on the stool when the door opened. “Hey Em…” He frowned, putting his head to one side. “Do I see the elusive Mary Margaret?” he said, sliding off his stool to circle her. “And out on a Sunday morning? Gold! Call the Watchers’ Council! We’ve slipped into some parallel dimension!”

Mary Margaret socked him on the shoulder. “Quit it,” she said, grinning. “It’s not like I’m not around on a Sunday.”

“Just not in the morning,” Gold pointed out. “Your father didn’t object?”

“Not today,” she said happily. “He’s gone fishing before Church.”

Gold was on his feet and halfway to the door in a heartbeat, calling Emma’s name.

“Uh… okay? I didn’t know fishing was that exciting,” Jeff said.

“Think about what we were just discussing, you foolish boy,” Gold snapped, turning to face him.

Jeff stared at him for a moment. “Oh God! Mary Margaret, you have to call your dad right now! He can’t go fishing!”

“What? Why?”

“There’s something in the water,” Jeff said, then stopped short when Gold stifled a derisive snort. “Okay, that was accidental, but it doesn’t change the fact that there is. Something in the water, I mean.”

“Something?” Mary Margaret said, pulling out her cell. “Or some thing?”

“Some thing,” Jeff replied as Emma thundered down the stairs. “We have to go. Mary Margaret’s dad is down at the pier.”

Emma swore. “Gold! What do I use?”

He handed her a bag of weapons. “Anything you can,” he said. “Now go!”

Mary Margaret led the run to her car, which was sitting outside, and they piled in. She tossed the cell back to Jeff. “Keep trying,” she said. “I don’t think he’ll answer, but keep trying until we get there.”

“He’ll be okay,” Jeff said, putting the phone to his ear.

Mary Margaret looked at Emma. “Will he?”

Emma was staring straight ahead. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. 

Mary Margaret went even paler and pressed the accelerator down.

Storybrooke flew past them, the streets deserted so early on a Sunday morning.

Before Mary Margaret even stopped the car, Emma had the door open and was leaping out. 

“Find Abigail King,” she said sharply. “She knows about this thing. Gold called her to let her know she might be useful. We need to close it in so it can’t escape. Mary Margaret, you find your dad. Get him out of harm’s way, and I’ll deal with the fish bitch.”

Jeff broke into a run, heading for the pier, and yelled back over his shoulder. “He’s up there! I can see him!”

“Got him!” Mary Margaret called after him, running as fast as she could. “Dad! Dad!”

“Look out!” Emma yelled, overtaking both of them and hurtling past, a heavy axe in her hand. “It’s coming!” 

Jeff stopped dead at the sight of a red-haired woman’s head and body appearing over the edge of the pier, slim silver hands hauling her up. Mr Blanchard was staring too, and Jeff couldn’t blame him. The woman was ethereal, beautiful, with hair darkened to blood-red by the seawater. 

A ship’s horn blared and Jeff stumbled, startled.

The woman’s face contorted and for a split-second, he saw fangs and black eyes, before it dived back towards the water. One of its hands was around Mr Blanchard’s leg. With a savage yank, it dragged him with it.

Mary Margaret screamed, and Jeff saw the blur of Emma diving off the pier.

They both rushed up to the spot where Mr Blanchard had stood a moment earlier. The water was frothing and rippling, and a coil of silver tumbled and twisted, but there was no sign of anyone in the water.

“Dad, oh God, dad…”

A head broke the water, half-bald. Leopold Blanchard was struggling in the water, flailing helplessly for something to grab onto.

“Dad!” Mary Margaret screamed. She kicked off her shoes and jumped off the pier. She hit the water feet first, and twisted about to swim towards her father. 

“Here!” A life belt hurtled over Jeff’s head, landing close to Leopold. Jeff turned to find a blonde woman standing behind him. “You must be Jeff,” she said. “Have you ever use a boat before?”

Jeff shook his head dumbly. 

The woman sighed. “This is going to end well,” she said, grabbing by the arm and dragging him towards the end of the pier. She led him down a ladder, shoving him into a small boat. “The engine’s running, and right now, I don’t give a damn if you capsize it or wreck it. Just point it that way and go!”

Too startled to argue, he scrambled down to the steering wheel, pointing the boat in the direction she said. Something was trailing off the boat behind him, but he didn’t dare to turn to see what it was. He had to keep his eyes ahead, and he definitely didn’t want to wreck any boats, not on his first try. 

The woman had scrambled onto a smaller vessel, a little speedboat, and zipped across the bay to Mary Margaret and her father. Mr Blanchard looked like he was unconscious and the blonde woman helped Mary Margaret haul her father out of the water. 

“Is he okay?” Jeff yelled.

The snake-woman-monster-thing reared up from the water, eight feet of sinuous body lashing and jerking against Emma’s grip. There were narrower coils wrapped around Emma, tightening, but Emma had a fishing wire around the creature’s throat and was pulling back on it, as hard as she could.

The creature howled and hissed, and they crashed back under the water, the tangled coils of serpent turning the still bay into a maelstrom.

Jeff saw the speedboat heading back towards him, towards the spot where Emma had gone under. The woman was standing at the wheel, a ferocious look on her face and a harpoon gun in one hand.

“That won’t kill it!” Jeff called out. “It’s not big enough!”

“Not to kill,” the woman shouted back. “A distraction!” She leaned over the edge of the boat and fired down into the water. Some kind of thick, dark liquid bubbled up and the coils lashed more wildly.

Emma’s head broke the surface. “Get out of here! Fast!” she choked before vanishing under again.

The woman stared at the water for a split-second before hitting the engines to full. Jeff saw the water froth and wanted to scream at her for abandoning Emma. Before he could gather breath, there was a sickening series of crunches, and the engine on the small boat crackled and sparked, then erupted into flames. 

The flames were extinguished in seconds, but the woman turned around with the extinguisher when a pair hands caught the edge of the boat.

Jeff whooped in relief when Emma hauled herself up over the side. He turned the wheel of his own boat, steering it carefully in towards them. The hulls knocked against one another, and the boat-woman scrambled over to kill his engine.

“You did it!” Jeff said, leaning over the rail. “You did it, right?”

Emma looked up from where she was sitting on the floor of the boat. She was out of breath and covered in a mess of scales, seaweed and blood. “Yeah,” she said hoarsely. She looked sidelong at Mary Margaret, who was hugging her father tightly. “You guys okay?”

Mr Blanchard was pale and shaken, but he nodded.

“I’ve called up the coastguard team,” the blonde woman said. “Let them know we have a monster sea-serpent in the bay, and to keep people out of the way.”

“It doesn’t exactly look serpenty,” Jeff said, glancing at Mary Margaret’s father. He seemed to dazed to even notice what they were talking about. “I mean, the head was very much not snake-ish.”

“Then it’s a good thing that’s the part I shoved through the propellers,” Emma said, struggling to her feet. She coughed suddenly, and turned in time to be sick over the side of the boat. She coughed again, wetly. “Don’t try almost drowning. That’s not the best kind of fun.”

“I’ll get you tea when we get back to the pier,” the woman said. “You’ll live.”

Emma gave her a look. “Wrestled many giant sea-serpents, have you?”

The woman grinned at her. “Sure,” she said. “That’s what we do for fun around here.”

Emma stared at her for a long moment, then started laughing.

Jeff shook his head. Girls and women made no sense.

 

_________________________________________________________

 

“How’s your father doing?” Gold asked.

“For someone who was almost drowned and eaten, surprisingly well,” Mary Margaret said with a smile. “He isn’t so worried about me anymore, what with the saving his life.” She looked around. “I just wanted to drop by to see how Emma is.”

Gold glanced up the stairs. “I think it’s safe to say she’s resting and recovering.”

“Henry-time?” Mary Margaret guessed.

Gold nodded with a quiet smile. “I think she bought every type of ice cream and take out imaginable. Last time I looked in, they were watching some film about a wizard.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to be in the way.”

“So you’re researching?”

He chuckled. “As surprising as it might seem, sometimes, I just read for pleasure,” he said. “I do exist beyond the capacity of Watcher.”

Mary Margaret blushed. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” he said, rising. “But as I do have some time to myself, I’m afraid I’ll have to chase you out.”

The next couple of hours ticked by peacefully enough, and when he was finished his book, and had arranged the inventory as much as he could, he ventured up the stairs. The television was off, and it seemed suspiciously quiet.

Gold pushed the living room door open carefully.

One side of his mouth turned up at the sight of Emma sprawled against a heap of pillows on the couch, fast asleep. Her body was curved around Henry, who still had a rim of chocolate smudged around his mouth. He too was asleep, a small, drowsy smile on his face.

Gold edged closer and tugged the blanket down from the back of the couch, covering them both as lightly as he could.

One of Emma’s eyes cracked open. He put his finger to his lips, then withdrew just as quietly, leaving them to sleep in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re. monsters of the week and whatnot, the use of the Apotamkin is a conglomeration of the Siren from OUaT, the concept of the little Mermaid, and merging it with Native American folklore. I suspect we will see a lot of this in chapters to come :)


	3. Come Again

The moon was on the rise and the highway looked like a silver streak winding towards the coastal town. The sea glittered in the distance, beyond the soft lights of the town that was their destination.

Not a seat on the bus was empty.

The driver was looking grey. It was the first time Phil Tailor had been caught up in a tour anything like this one. 

The tour group had been very specific: tinted windows to stop people looking in on them, a screen to section off the front of the bus from the passengers, the passengers had to board before the driver, and plenty of stops at service stations along the road.

The way the boss told it, the tour was a bunch of religious nuts. They all dressed like they didn’t know it was the twenty-first century. They all spoke with weird dialects. Half of them seemed confused by the TV.

It wasn’t until the fourth day of the journey from the deep South that he found out just what he was transporting across the states. 

It wasn’t the corpses that gave them away. It wasn’t the blood that was staining the floor. It wasn’t even the travelling all day thing. That was when they stopped hiding it. He only found out when he was standing too close to the bus as his passengers got on board.

There were twenty of them patiently lined up to board again, before dawn, from the motel they had stopped at the night before. They were polite to him, but polite didn’t change the fact that when he caught a glimpse of the wing mirror, not a one of them had a reflection. 

He waited until they were all on board and as soon as daylight hit, he ran.

Not far or fast enough.

That night, he was dragged out of his motel room window, and from that day on, they didn’t let him off the bus. They wanted their holiday, and they wanted their driver to get them to where they wanted to be. One of them sat in the shadows directly behind the driver’s seat, holding onto the cord around Phil’s neck, just in case he had any ideas of unlikely heroism.

He thought about it.

After seeing a girl dragged on board, hearing her screams, and seeing her body thrown out as they drove, he was more and more tempted to run the bus off the road, but there was no guarantee it would kill them, and if it didn’t kill him, they would never let him forget it.

All he could hope was that when he got them where they wanted to be, he would be able to escape and get help.

“There it is.” The leader of the group emerged from the back of the bus. He was a heavy-set, bearded man. Some of the others called him Hordor. “Storybrooke.”

“We should be there before dawn,” Phil said in an unsteady voice. 

Hordor ruffled his hair. “Good job,” he said, looking down. Phil didn’t want to look up, but he risk a glance, and the man’s face was monstrous, all fangs and yellow eyes. “You got us here faster than expected. I think we owe you a bonus.”

Phil’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to know what that bonus might be. He just hoped that there was someone in Storybrooke that could help him.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

The school bus pulled up outside the house, just as Emma turned onto the block.

She’d had another detention, this time for picking a fight with Regina Mills over the right to sit wherever the hell she wanted to sit. Okay, maybe she had gone a bit far when she pulled Regina’s chair out from under her and left her on her ass on the floor, but no one had the right to claim a chair just because she wore a short skirt and waved pompoms.

Henry hopped down from the bus, beaming as he saw her. “Hey, Emma.”

She threw her arm around his shoulder to walk him the rest of the way to the house. “Hey,” she said. “How was your day?”

Henry shrugged. “Schooly,” he said, hurrying through the door once she opened it. 

The back of his shirt caught her eye, and she caught his shoulder. “Henry, your shirt’s torn,” she said, frowning.

He pulled back, lowering his eyes. “It got caught,” he said. “It’s no big deal.”

“Caught?”

He nodded, and hesitated just long enough for her to know he was trying to think up a lie. “On a door,” he said. “It caught. Tore.”

Emma felt anger rising. “Henry, did someone do this to you?”

“It’s no big deal,” he said defiantly.

“If someone’s hurting you…”

“You’ll hurt them?” Henry shook his head, backing away. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone, Emma! Not again!”

Emma stared at him. It was true that once, she had caught some kids in one of their homes picking on him. They were younger than her, but older than him, and she had sent them running for the carer with busted noses. They didn’t last long in that home, and that was when social services had tried to separate them.

“I-I won’t hurt anyone,” she said, knotting her hands together. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s just a shirt,” he said in a small voice. “They didn’t hurt me. I just want to forget about it.” 

He looked up at her pleadingly, and she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want.”

He looked so grateful and scared that when he turned and ran up the stairs, she didn’t follow him. Emma dropped her rucksack at her feet and punched the wall as hard as she could. The plaster cobwebbed with cracks.

The side door that led into the store opened.

Gold frowned. “Beating up the masonry?”

“I tripped,” she lied, glaring at him.

Gold glanced at the wall and the unmistakeable impression of a fist. “I see,” he said. He jerked his head. “Something has come up.”

Emma followed him into the store. There was a newspaper open on the counter, and he turned it for her to read. The biggest article caught her eye at once, and she picked the paper up, reading through it.

“Six vampire killings in one night?” she said in disbelief.

“My thoughts exactly,” he said. “We had no recent deaths, so it can’t have been a hungry fledgling.” He tapped his fingertips on the counter. “It seems that we have some intruders in Storybrooke.”

She tossed down the paper. “So I’m patrolling tonight, I guess?”

“I think it would be wise,” Gold agreed. “Cautiously. We don’t know the numbers we’re dealing with, but if there are enough to leave several marks on each victim, that could suggest there’s a new nest come to town.”

Emma shuddered. “I hate nests. Why can’t they be all single and creepy like in the movies? It would be so much easier.”

“Unfortunately, that would be unrealistic,” he said. He unfolded a map, spreading it on the counter. “I’ve marked the locations that the bodies were found, and it looks like they were all killed within a couple of square miles.”

Emma leaned on the counter, examining the map. “I’ll start with the cemeteries,” she said, “and work out from them. If it’s a nest, they could be holed up anywhere. It’s not like Storybrooke doesn’t have a lot of empty buildings.”

Gold nodded. “On this occasion, I think it would be better to keep your friends out of the loop.”

Emma snorted quietly. “Friends. Right.” 

Gold was silent for a moment, then folded up the map. “Can you and Henry help me prepare dinner? You’ll need your strength, so we better start soon.”

Emma pushed off from the counter. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “You’ll keep him safe while I’m out?”

“Of course,” her Watcher said.

 

______________________________________________________

 

 

 

The cemeteries on the East side of town had shown up nothing.

Emma prowled the streets instead, looking for something to hit.

She hated the fact that Henry was afraid of her when she hit people, but she hated herself more for the anger that they made her feel. She wasn’t good at keeping it inside. If she didn’t break something or stake something or hell, punch a wall, then she would clench up like an angry fist and it would hurt all over. 

Someone screamed and Emma broke into a run, sprinting in the direction of the sound.

It was a relief to see that there were vampires, four of them, and they had a young man, someone she knew from school, but couldn’t put a name to.

“Let him go,” she said, her voice calm. She was ready for this. She had been ready all night.

They looked at her, and they made things so much worse for themselves by laughing.

Emma’s hand tightened on her stake.

Two of them charged her, and she moved. A roundhouse kick caught one across the neck, sending him spinning, and she landed, rolling, to slam both feet up under the second vampire’s ribs. The female vampire hurtled back through the air, crashing into a lamp post.

“A slayer?” One of the pair holding the boy snarled. “That wasn’t in the brochure.” he raised his hand, holding a gun, and shot a flare into the sky.

Emma was back on her feet, illuminated by the red light. She could only guess he was calling for back-up. 

“I don’t advertise,” she said, dodging a savage punch from the first vampire, and bringing her elbow around to catch him in the throat. He grabbed her around the waist, and she felt teeth rake at her side. She caught his arm, twisted until something cracked, and he screamed.

She twisted his arm again, harder, forcing him to his knees, and brought her other arm around in an arc, the stake sinking through flesh, leaving nothing but dust on her hands. She barely had a second to draw breath before the female vampire lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. Emma punched the vampire between the eyes, and when that failed to dislodge her, grabbed her head with both hands, twisting.

The vampire clawed at her arms, cutting almost to the bone, and Emma hissed in pain, bucking her body to throw the vampire off her. The vampire rolled, scrambling to her feet, and Emma groped blindly for her stake. She pushed herself upright, baring her teeth, and threw herself hard at the vampire.

The vampire didn’t expect it, and a fence shattered behind her as they went through it full force. Emma crashed down on top of her, blood streaming from gouges in her arms, and she punched her savagely.

Somewhere nearby, she heard a car engine roar, saw the lights, but she didn’t care if she was seen as she brought the stake down in an arc. The vampire dissolved beneath her, and Emma turned to the two with the boy. They were stock-still and staring, as if they had never seen anything like it. 

“Let him go,” she said, her voice ice cold.

The boy ran towards her as soon as his arms were released.

“Emma!” Emma didn’t turn at Mary Margaret’s voice. The car. It was probably Mary Margaret’s car. “Emma, quick! Get in! We have to go!”

Emma’s heart felt like it stopped. Mary Margaret knew to only interrupt her mid-slayage if it was something important. She backed in the direction of the car, keeping her eyes on the two growling vampires. They didn’t look so scared anymore. Something was going on.

“Get in the car,” she said to the boy without turning.

She retreated back, keeping her eyes on the vampires, then pulled the door open and leapt in, slamming the door as Mary Margaret floored the accelerator. “What the hell’s going on?” she demanded, as they roared through the streets.

“You were outnumbered.” Jeff’s voice came from Mary Margaret’s cellphone, which was resting on the dash. Emma snatched it.

“The hell you say! I took out two. There were only two left!”

“There were at least another ten heading in,” Jeff replied. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them all night, trying to count how many are out there. One of them sent up a flare or something and they all headed your way.”

At least ten? 

Emma looked at the cell, then back at the guy in the back seat. “You okay?” she asked.

“That guy tried to bite me!”

“Yeah,” Emma said, glancing at Mary Margaret. “They do that.” Emma frowned as the other girl shot a sidelong look at her. “What were you doing nearby?” Emma asked. “Gold said to keep you two out of this.”

“We saw the paper,” Mary Margaret replied. “Did you really think we were going to sit this one out?” She pulled over on the main street, twisting in her seat. “You live nearby, right, Thomas?”

The blond boy nodded. “One block over.

“Get inside,” Emma said at once. “There are crazy people about.”

“You think?” Thomas said, scrambling out the car.

Emma scowled after him. “You’re welcome.”

“He’s a boy,” Mary Margaret said. “It’s not like they can think before college.”

Emma subsided back in the seat. “So you came to be a rescue party?” She knew she sounded pissed, even if she should be thanking them.

“I kind of like you alive more than dead,” Mary Margaret said lightly, but she looked at Emma, and the relief written all over her face made Emma shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“When one Slayer falls, another is called,” she said. “Not like it’s a big deal.”

Mary Margaret pulled the car up outside Gold’s house. “I wish you wouldn’t say that,” she said. 

“Say what? That another Slayer will rise? They will.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, reaching for Emma’s hand. “Talking like you don’t matter, like you’re expendable.” 

Emma looked at their hands, then up at Mary Margaret. She tugged her fingers away self-consciously. “We should get inside,” she said. “Gold will want to know if we’re talking big numbers.”

Gold was waiting for them in the store, and took one look at Emma’s arms before heading for the first aid box. It was more like a doctor’s bag, full of needles and swabs and packets of catgut for stitches. 

“Just give me a patch,” Emma said, waving away the bandages. “We have more important things to worry about.”

Gold handed her the swabs and antiseptic. “What do we know?”

“We’re talking big numbers,” Emma replied. “Jeff was watching for them.”

Mary Margaret held up her cell. “You still there, Jeff?”

“I’m on the lookout,” Jeff replied. “Last count, we had at least twenty. They all met up where Emma took two of them down.”

Gold frowned. “Twenty new vampires? What are they doing here?”

“Apart from eating the locals?” Emma said. “God knows. Vampires aren’t exactly big on the explanations when you’re staking them.”

“Maybe they’re on vacation?” Mary Margaret suggested. 

Emma snorted in disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”

“Given Storybrooke’s reputation as the cursed town where anything can happen, vampires choosing it as a holiday spot isn’t the worst thing we’ve seen,” Gold said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But how did they get into town with no one noticing?”

“Underground?” Emma said. “Not like we don’t have a lot of sewer lines.”

“Possible,” Gold acknowledged.

“How about on a bus?” Jeff’s voice rang out. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gold said impatiently.

“I’m not,” Jeff said. “I’m watching them. There’s a tour bus picking them up at Emma’s hunting ground. Big, fancy, blacked out windows.”

Mary Margaret looked as surprised as Gold and Emma. “You mean it really is vampires on vacation?”

“Keep an eye on them,” Gold said. “If you can see where they hole up during the day, we might have a chance to get rid of them.”

“Do I get the gasoline again?” Emma inquired. “Burning them out sounds like a good plan.”

“Let’s see where they end up first,” Gold said.

 

_____________________________________________________

 

The coach was standing outside an abandoned warehouse complex.

Jeff offered Emma a pry-bar to wedge the door open.

The stink of blood made him recoil, sickness rising in his throat.

“Looks like you were right about them coming in by bus,” Emma said, pushing the door a little wider and climbing on board.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jeff hissed. “What if they’re in there?”

Emma glanced back at him. “In a bus with breakable windows in the middle of the day in a town where they know they’ve got the attention of the Slayer?” She shook her head. “I’d guess they dumped it, to make us look around here, if they’re smart. If they’re not, they just parked up and moved indoors.”

“Okay,” Jeff said, looking around with a grimace. He frowned. “How did the driver do it?”

“Do what?” Emma asked, pushing through thick, dark drapes that separated the front of the bus from the back.

“Drive here,” he said. “There’s only a shade for the eyes. Nothing to stop him being crisp-fried by the sun.”

“Maybe they hired a demon,” Emma said with a shrug, switching on her flashlight. She stopped dead. “Jeff, get off the bus.”

“What? Is there something gross?”

“Jeff,” Emma’s voice was clipped. “Get off the bus right now. They didn’t just park up. They left us a welcome gift.”

Jeff froze on the spot. “A bomb?”

“Something that doesn’t look like a birthday present,” Emma replied. He could hear a tremor in her voice. She was scared, but she was trying not to be. Vampires and demons and monsters didn’t scare her, but there was something human about a bomb. “Get off the damned bus.”

“What about…”

“I triggered it,” she snapped. “Get off! Now!”

Jeff fled for the door, scrambling down and backing away. “Emma? Can you get out?”

He heard the crash of glass. Her flashlight smashed through the side window of the bus, shattering it, and he heard her yell, “Get back! Find cover!”

He felt ashamed as he ran, hiding behind the edge of the nearest building. The explosion still shook the ground beneath his feet and the blaze of light made his eyes ache. Bits of glass and metal rained out of the sky.

Jeff rushed back around the corner. 

Emma was lying on the ground, ten feet from the burning remains of the bus.

She must have jumped some of the way, but not all. She was covered in blood and burned, and her eyes were closed when he touched her face. He called her name, but couldn’t even hear his own voice.

Everything was noisy, hazy, smoky, blurred.

Fire trucks arrived. Gold arrived.

Jeff tried to explain what happened, but he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop staring at the medics picking Emma up on a stretcher and carrying her towards an ambulance. Gold must have said something to the police, because they nodded to Jeff that he could go.

Gold drove him back to town, straight back to the shop.

“They did this on purpose,” Jeff said when his hearing finally returned. Gold had given him a cup of tea, and the shaking had stopped. “Emma said they knew she was a Slayer. They didn’t want anyone to rain on their parade.”

“It does seem that way,” Gold acknowledged. “They’re underestimating the ability of normal people to fight them.”

“So we fight?”

Gold looked at him. “They put Emma in the hospital,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jeff nodded. “We fight,” he said. He took a shaking breath. “All the usual things work?”

“Stakes, holy water, crosses, fire, garlic,” Gold replied. “We need to use what we can to deal with them.” He glanced at his watch. “If you don’t need to be at school, go down into the basement. Start sorting through weapons. If you can think of any way to deal with more than one at a time, be my guest.”

“What are you going to do?”

Gold’s face was pale, drawn. “Tell Henry.”

 

______________________________________________________

 

Mary Margaret’s dad wasn’t quite so strict anymore, but she was pretty sure that if she told him she was going vampire hunting with a pawnbroker and the boy classed as the town eccentric, she would be grounded until Judgement day.

She told him she was going to Church for a rosary circle instead, and while she did stop off in the Church to speak to the priest and get some bottles of Holy Water, her destination was the park in the centre of town. Jeff said a lot of the vampires had been prowling about there the night before.

He’d made a good call, because she heard a scream and someone ran in front of her car.

Mary Margaret stopped the car dead and the girl scrambled in. 

“You have to help me!” Regina Mills sobbed. “Some crazy guy was chasing me!”

Mary Margaret could see the crazy guy approaching, grinning. He had yellow eyes and fangs and she felt only the smallest bit of guilt as she hit the accelerator and drove straight at him. He yelled, diving aside, and Regina screamed, as Mary Margaret mounted the sidewalk and sped into the park.

“What are you doing?” Regina exclaimed. “Get out of the park! This is the only exit! You’re trapping us!”

Mary Margaret smiled grimly. “That’s the plan,” she said.

“Are you crazy?” Regina yelled, sounding more like her old self. She grabbed at the wheel. “I don’t wanna get killed by some crazy hobo because you want to be a hero!”

“You want to get out and walk?” Mary Margaret said. It was strange that seeing Emma - tough, strong Emma - hooked up to tubes and needles in the hospital had made her feel angry and brave enough to take on anyone, whether that was a vampire or Regina Mills.

Regina shrank back in the passenger seat. “If anything happens to me, my dad will sue your father for everything,” she hissed.

“If anything happens, no one will know it was my fault,” Mary Margaret retorted. She swung into the parking lot. Gold and Jeff were already there. Jeff was stacking empty gas canisters into the trunk of Gold’s car.

“What’s going on?” Regina demanded, clambering out of the car in her heels. “Some kind of freaks and geeks convention?” She looked horrified. “Oh, god. Don’t tell me you’re playing those Dragon dungeon games…”

Gold looked at Mary Margaret. “You brought a friend?”

“She is not my friend!” Regina exclaimed indignantly. “She almost ran down some drunk hobo who was stalking me!”

Mary Margaret smiled tightly. “I don’t think I’ll try rescuing people again,” she said, shooting a black look at Regina. She held out the bottles of Holy Water. “You’ll be needing these.”

“You know what to do, Jeff,” Gold said. Jeff nodded, taking the bottles and running towards the maintenance sheds. Gold turned his attention to Mary Margaret. “You know what I’m asking of you, dearie.”

“I’m not afraid,” Mary Margaret said. She held up her rosary. “I’ve taken precautions.”

Regina stamped her foot. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Gold studied her as if she was some strange and unusual creature. “You seem to have attracted the attention of the people we’re trying to lure in,” he said, waving over his shoulder. “Would you be a good girl and run screaming in that direction? Preferably onto the grass.”

Regina put her hands on her hips. “And why would I do that?”

Mary Margaret grabbed her hand. “Because your hobo just found us!” she exclaimed, dragging Regina after her in the direction Gold had indicated. The vampire was coming through the gates towards the parking lot. Regina shrieked and picked up the pace.

Gold seemed to escape his notice, slipping back into his car, but Mary Margaret figured two fresh girls were going to be tastier than some middle-aged shop-owner.

The centre of the park was a wide open green space, edged by trees and benches. There was a fountain in the middle of it all. The grass was soaked, squelching underfoot, and there was a scent rising from it that wasn’t exactly natural. 

Everything was in place.

Mary Margaret stopped by the fountain, earning another squeal of protest from Regina when the sprinkler system started up on its night time cycle around the edges. 

“Do you have any idea how expensive this dress is?” she exclaimed furiously. 

Mary Margaret placed herself in front of Regina. “I don’t really care right now,” she said. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

“Who died and…” she trailed off at the sight of the vampire. “Oh God.”

“Stay here,” Mary Margaret said. She was shaking. “You’ll be safe.” She walked forward, clasping her hand tight around the beads of her rosary. She had taken precautions, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t end up dead. Being bait sucked.

The sprinklers whirred to a stop.

“You didn’t think some water was going to stop me, did you?” The vampire stepped onto the grass. He was tall, broad, with a beard and cruel eyes. 

“What do you want?” Mary Margaret said. The quiver in her voice wasn’t completely fake.

He grinned, as more figures approached along the pathways. “To kill you,” he said. “Looks like town’s pretty quiet tonight, and me and my buddies, we’re hungry.”

Mary Margaret backed away.

“There’s more,” Regina gasped, trembling. “Oh God… we’re going to die…”

There were at least a dozen of them, if not more, moving in from all directions now. They weren’t even moving fast. They were grinning, like it was a game, and Mary Margaret wondered if they realised the rules had been changed.

The sprinklers started up again.

She was backed onto the stone pathway around the fountain, and she saw Gold at the edge of the grass.

“Hey!”

The lead vampire turned. “Oh look,” he said, grinning. “A hero.”

“Hordor.” One of the female vampires was tugging her long skirts back from her legs and frowning. “There’s something wrong, honey.”

He waved her into silence. “Wait a minute,” he said, turning around to face Gold properly, as the other vampires milled closer to Mary Margaret and Regina at the fountain. “I know you. I heard all about you. You’re the Watcher, right?”

Mary Margaret wasn’t close enough to see the look on Gold’s face, but she could tell he wasn’t happy to be recognised. 

“Perhaps,” he said tersely, as Hordor approached him. 

Hordor was laughing. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I heard you’re real good at watching. Watched what happened to your wife and didn’t lift a finger.”

“Hordor!” Another of the vampires called out more urgently, backing away to the edge of the grass, out of reach of the sprinklers. “The water. There’s something in the water…”

Hordor paused, staring at Gold. “What did you do, Watcher?”

Gold flicked open a cigarette lighter. “I stopped watching,” he said, and dropped it.

The grass - which Jeff had soaked with gasoline - caught like a candle.

Mary Margaret threw herself back and grabbed Regina around the waist, both of them crashing into the misty water of the fountain. It was almost enough to muffle the screams of the vampires on the grass as the flames took hold. 

They surfaced, gasping, as the sprinklers were powered up again to full, dulling the strongest of the flames.

“We’re alive…” Mary Margaret barely had the chance to gasp before hands caught her arms and she was dragged around to face a hissing, burned vampire. He was bloody and dripping and had dived into the fountain just like they had. He caught Mary Margaret’s hair and she heard Regina scream as the demon bit her.

Then he was screaming, scrambling away from her and clawing at his mouth, which was bloodied by more than her own blood. He was choking and gasping and Mary Margaret rose on shaking legs in the water. She didn’t have the strength to stake him, and he flopped over the edge of the fountain, half-staggering, half-crawling away.

“Miss Blanchard?”

Mary Margaret turned, her hand at her neck. 

Gold offered her a hand to get out of the fountain. “You were bitten?”

She smiled shakily, as he took his kerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her neck. “I told you I took precautions,” she said. “Stole some of the sacramental wine from the Church and splashed myself with Holy water.”

Gold looked at her admiringly. “Clever girl.” He turned to Regina, who was standing in the water, soaked to the skin, and shivering. He held out his hand. “Come on, girl.”

“I’ll get you for that, Mary Mildred,” she snapped, ignoring his hand and stepping out herself, almost falling in the process. “You can give me a ride home, because it’ll be your fault if I get pneumonia!”

Mary Margaret looked ruefully at Gold. “What about the survivors?”

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “You get home. Jeff and I can manage the rest.”

 

_______________________________________________

 

 

Jeff liked seeing the sneaky side of Gold.

He had suggested gas in the sprinklers, but Gold said Holy Water was better to weaken them. The gas sprinkled all over the grass wouldn’t be noticed, especially not if they were spraying the vampires with Holy Water too. 

He’d got out of the maintenance sheds just in time to see Gold drop the lighter and take out almost all of the sixteen vampires who were standing on their trap. He wished he had his phone with him to catch it, but Gold told him to watch for stragglers.

He saw one of them heading out of the park and ran after it, armed with an axe and a stake. He had a cross on as well, just to be on the safe side, but the vampire didn’t even notice. He just ran like he had some place to be in a hurry.

They passed a row of houses, and Jeff grinned as he turned into one of the empty ones on the block, the house with the Foreclosure sign stuck in the lawn.

So they had a base.

Jeff hurried back to the park to tell Gold. It would be a morning raid, he guessed, like the one they had attempted that morning on the bus. It was easier to kill vampires by daylight, when they weren’t expecting it.

Gold’s car sped out of the park and slowed, giving him time to dive in.

“Police?” Jeff inquired.

“I’d rather not answer awkward questions,” Gold admitted. “How do you feel about a stakeout?” 

Jeff eyed him. “Did you just make a really bad joke?”

“I don’t joke,” Gold said.

Jeff wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Stakeout is good,” he said.

They parked on the same block as the vampires’ hide out. 

There was at least one left, but potentially more, and rather than charging in, all crossbows blazing, letting the sun do the work for them seemed like the better idea. The windows of the house were boarded up, and Gold informed Jeff he had a pry bar.

“What if they drag us in?”

“Then we hit them until they let us go,” Gold replied. “There’s one can of petrol left. It need be, we can smoke them out.”

In the end, the windows proved to be enough. The building only had one level, and the wood over the windows was damp and halfway to rotted through. Jeff took the pry bar to the side windows, and Gold used his tyre iron to deal with the front.

The screams from inside the house were poetry so early in the morning.

When the screams faded, Jeff frowned. It sounded like someone was calling inside the house.

“Gold!” he yelled. “There’s someone in there!”

Before Gold could say anything, he wedged a window open, scrambling through. 

As far as he could see, the place was filled with nothing but dust, and he hurried through the house. A bundle heaped in a corner twitched, and Jeff knelt, opening a burlap sack to find a man, bound and gagged, staring wildly at him. 

“Here,” Jeff said, hacking at the bonds and tearing at the man’s gag.

“Look out!” The man staggered to his feet with Jeff’s pry bar and swung it like a pro batter.

There was a crunch as metal met flesh and Jeff turned, shaking, to see a vampire fall flat on the ground, bleeding at the mouth. The man standing over him swayed, the pry bar dropping from his hand. 

“You took out seven in one go, kid,” he said hoarsely. “Missed one. Not bad.”

Jeff got to his feet, staring at the man. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

The man grimaced. “Phil Tailor,” he said. “As of now, retired bus driver.” He swayed and Jeff caught him by the arm. “How about we get out of here?”

Jeff nodded. “That sounds like a good plan,” he said.

 

_________________________________________________________

 

Emma’s head hurt when she opened her eyes.

She could smell antiseptic, chemicals, the smell of hospital.

Even if she wanted to sit up, she wasn’t sure she could have.

She slowly blinked, her eyes coming back into focus, and cautiously tried turning her head. It hurt like hell, but if it hurt, then she was alive, and alive was always better than the other option.

“Emma?”

Henry. That was Henry’s voice. Henry. She tried to lift her head from the pillow, but she felt tired and aching and heavy. “H-Henry?” she whispered hoarsely. “You there?”

He appeared in her line of sight, pale and with shadows around his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice shaking. “You didn’t wake up. They said you were just sleeping, but you didn’t wake up.”

She groped blindly for his hand at the edge of the bed. “M’up,” she murmured. Her eyes flicked around the room. “Don’t know where…”

“Hospital,” Henry said. His eyes were filling up with tears. “Bad people made you get hurt.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand, holding him as firmly as she could. “I’m okay,” she breathed. “Help me up.”

With some struggling, he managed to help her sit up. She was in a small room, and she could see a camp bed made up alongside hers, and Henry’s favourite - only - stuffed bear was resting on it. She patted the mattress beside her. 

“C’mere.”

Henry climbed up onto the bed, snuggling beside her like he always did when he was scared.

Emma winced as he pressed against bruises and battered bones, but held him all the tighter, her cheek resting against his hair. “I’m going to be okay,” she promised. “When I’m out of here, we’ll take care of those people.”

“Mr Gold said he would,” Henry said in a small voice. “He said they sorted it all. That they won’t bother you again.”

Emma stared at the wall. “Oh.” She hugged Henry tighter. 

“I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied just as softly. “Henry…”

He looked up at her. “It made me want to keep you safe,” he confided in a whisper. “Like you always kept me safe.”

She touched his cheek gently. “You know I didn’t want to scare you,” she said. “I-I just needed to stop people from hurting you when you were so little.” She could feel hot tears on her cheeks. “I don’t ever want anyone to hurt you.”

He nodded, curling more tightly against her. It hurt so bad, but it was a good kind of hurt: the hurt that said she was still alive to feel it.


	4. Hole in the Heart

The streets of Storybrooke glistened with rain.

A streetlamp hissed and sputtered.

It wasn't a good part of town, but demons preferred those: darker, messier, more places to hide, more accessible victims. 

The demon sniffed the air. 

It was a new arrival to Storybrooke, called by some unknown voice. This place, it knew, was a good place to feed and grow strong. It could hide in plain sight, unseen until the feed came upon it. It looked human enough to get close to the prey. They didn't see what it was until the horn emerged from its breast. It liked them to be startled. That meant their hearts raced faster. That meant the life was sweeter.

For once, the streets were deserted.

The demon padded along the alleyways, tilting its head this way and that. A clatter of cans and the sound of human cursing made it advance.

There was a female, and it was doing battle with one of the blood-drinkers. The scent of her reached the demon's nose, and it recoiled. She carried the scent of death and battle and defeat. As delicious as her essence would have been, the danger was too strong. Such a female would break its horn and defeat it.

The demon slunk back into the shadows.

There would be other prey, weaker, more fragile, and when it was ready, its master would guide it to its brethren and they would devour the world.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

"Are you sure it was a good idea?"

Emma sat down carefully, setting down her tray. "I killed a vampire," she said. "Of course it was a good idea." 

Mary Margaret sighed. "Emma, it's less than a week since you were almost blown up!" She looked around in case anyone was listening, and leaned closer across the table. "You don't have to go on patrol right away, not until you're healed up at least."

Emma shrugged. "Sacred duty," she said. "Don't really have the option for R and R." She glanced up as Jeff approached and threw himself down into the vacant chair. "Hey."

He grunted, glowering, and folded his arms.

"Is something wrong?" Mary Margaret asked. 

"What gave you that idea?" Jeff asked sullenly.

Emma leaned forward. "Something work-related?"

He shook his head, turning with a scowl as a group of football players entered the cafeteria. "We have a fresh intake of dumbass," he grumbled. "Like we didn't have enough meatheads taking up space and pushing us around already."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "Just because you didn't make the team," she said, looking over at the group. Dan Chevalier and Lance Knight were showing around a guy she didn't recognise. He was tall, with sandy-blond hair and was smiling. It was a nice smile. "I wonder why he's transferred to Storybrooke."

"To lower the intellect ratio of the men in town?" Jeff said grumpily.

Mary Margaret pulled a face. "Dan and Lance aren't so bad," she said. "He might be okay too."

"Eyes off, Mary Mildred."

Mary Margaret, Emma and Jeff all turned in their seats.

Regina was standing there, hands on her hips. She still hadn't forgiven Mary Margaret for pitching her into the fountain, even if it was to save her life. "You don't get a look in when it comes to the football team, remember," she said with mock-sweetness. "Football players are the elite. You and your friends? Not even close."

"Unfortunately for you," Emma said, turning back to her lunch, "you don't get to say who we get to be friends with. Those guys can make up their own minds."

Regina snorted. "It's my job to make sure they don't need to mingle with people like you to begin with," she said as the footballers headed in their direction. She circled around the table, cutting them off and smiling brilliantly. She looped her arms through Dan's and the new guy's, leading them away. Lance glanced over at Mary Margaret with a roll of his eyes and a shake of her head, then followed. 

"Remind me," Jeff said, "why didn't we let her die again?"

"Because we would miss the vitriol," Mary Margaret replied.

Emma prodded Mary Margaret's hand with her fork. "And what was that?" she asked.

"What?"

"Football guy giving you the eye," Emma said. 

Mary Margaret laughed. "Lance?"

"Mm." Emma scooped another forkful of pasta into her mouth. "He's cute."

"He went to kindergarten with me," Mary Margaret said, laughing. "And school. I've known him since I could barely even crawl."

"Oh," Emma said. She sounded disappointed by the lack of some kind of juicy gossip. "What about the other guys?"

"Dan's okay," Mary Margaret said, ignoring Jeff's snort. "He's not exactly the world's greatest thinker, but he's a nice enough guy if you can talk to him with Regina coming at you with nerd-repellent."

"You're not nerds," Emma said, stirring the sticky remains of her pasta sauce.

"But we're not football players or cheerleaders either," Mary Margaret pointed out. "And we're not exactly high up the social pecking order."

"Ha!" Jeff snorted. "If there's a pecking order, we've been pushed off it."

"Would you want to be in Regina's gang?" Emma said, grinning. "Hanging around with her all the time? Socialising with her? By choice?"

Jeff turned a horrified look on her. "God, no!"

"See?" Mary Margaret said. "There are advantages to not being a footballer. We only get occasional contempt. If you were in the team, she would love you."

Jeff shuddered. "I'll stay on the Geek side of the force."

Mary Margaret glanced over in the direction of the football players, and blushed when she noticed the new guy was looking her way. He flashed her a smile, all white teeth and bright eyes. "Yeah," she said, turning back to her own tray. "Geek side of the force is safer."

 

 

________________________________________________________

 

Emma flipped over the gravestone, bringing both feet down a hard as she could on the vampire's head.

It felt better to build her strength back up instead of sitting at home, playing the invalid. Her ribs were almost totally healed, and the bruising was practically gone. Gold frowned at her every time she mounted up to go on patrol, but after the first time he tried to stop her doing what she wanted, he hadn't tried again. 

The vampire snarled, grabbing at her ankles, but Emma locked her feet behind his head, and used the grave as leverage to throw him over her body in an arc, bringing him down hard across another grave. Something cracked. Whatever it was, it wasn't any part of her. The vampire yowled at the sky. He squirmed free, rolling to the ground and scrambling away. 

Emma ran after him, ducking down to snatch up a large rock and hurling it at the fleeing vampire's back. It caught him right on the back of the head, and he staggered, tripping on his own feet, and crashing to his knees. 

She caught up with him, grabbing his hair and bringing down the stake as hard as she could through his back.

The vampire erupted in a cloud of dust and Emma sagged down on the nearest gravestone, panting. She braced one hand against her ribs. Something had pulled, and she knew Gold would give her the look if she went back with her ribs cracked. She still had the bandages in place, just to be on the safe side, even if it restricted her movement, though she wasn't about to tell her Watcher she had taken that bit of advice.

She sat for just long enough to catch her breath, then dusted herself down and got to her feet.

She was halfway down main street, ready to head for home, when she heard a muffled scream further down the road. Habit had her stake in one hand, knife in the other, before she even started to run. She rounded a corner and crashed squarely into someone, both of them staggering back at the impact.

"Sorry!"

Emma put her hands behind her back, hiding her weapons. She frowned, recognising the guy as the new football player that Jeff had been complaining about. "Uh," she stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

He jerked his head towards the alley. "I thought I heard someone scream," he said. "What were you doing?"

Emma's fingers tightened around her dagger's grip. "Same," she said.

"Want to go for safety in numbers?" he offered, before heading down the alley.

Emma groaned, hurrying after him. Another civilian putting themselves in the line of fire was just what she needed.

"You were sitting with the black-haired girl at school," he said, as they hurried down the alley. "Mary, right?"

"Mary Margaret," Emma said, eyes darting around the alley. The walls weren't high enough to keep out all the light, but it was dark enough to make things difficult, and if she had to shove him to safety, there were dumpsters he could hide behind. 

"It should be just around here," he said, his voice quiet. "I heard it this way."

Emma nodded tersely, as they eased their way through stacks of crates and garbage.

"Wait," he said, putting out his hand to stop her.

Emma looked at him in disbelief, shoving past his arm, only to stop dead two paces on. "Oh," she said, staring down at the body on the ground in front of them.

Someone had been screaming. 

Now, they weren't.

 

______________________________________________________________

 

"Gored."

Emma wrapped her hands around her mug of hot chocolate. "What?"

"The technical term," Gold replied, offering her the cinnamon. "Gored. The coroner just called me to let me know. It wasn't a stabbing, as we first thought."

Emma sprinkled cinnamon across the cream on her hot chocolate. "And is that better or worse?" she asked. They were sitting at the dining table in the house. It was close to six in the morning, and Emma had only just got in after being questioned by the police about the discovery of the body.

"It means either a human carrying a sharp, ridged horn of some kind," Gold replied, "or..."

"A demon," Emma finished. She set her mug down. "Damn." She pushed a hand through her hair. "So, what kind?"

Gold shook his head. "I couldn't tell you that yet," he said. "It must have been disturbed, though. Few demons would gore a human then leave the rest of the body untouched."

"So it didn't chow down," Emma said with a grimace. "That means it was probably distracted."

"And may still be hungry," Gold confirmed.

Emma pushed the chair back, getting up. She paced back and forth across the room, then turned. "I didn't see any demons running off," she said. "The alley was a dead-end." She paused, the pivoted on her heel to look at him. "The only person I saw was the football player from school."

"The young man who found the body with you?"

Emma nodded. "We ran into each other right by the entrance to the alley."

Gold rubbed his jaw. "He may have just been passing," he said. "It's not impossible."

"I don't believe in coincidences," she said. "What was he doing there? Near that alley of all places?"

Gold folded his hands on the table. "Was he carrying a horn?" he asked.

"Well, no."

"And did he show any attributes you might consider demonic?"

"No," Emma said, folding her arms. "But vampires don't either, until they're hungry."

"Very true," he said, inclining his head, a brief smile twitching his lips. She was starting to recognise that expression as pride, when she said or noticed something that was significant. She bit down on a smug grin for making a point that he approved of. "Find out some more about him, if you can."

"And if he's not human?"

"We deal with that when we come to it," Gold replied. "For the moment, we'll assume that he is human, and that he was simply in the area at the wrong time. What do you know about him?"

Emma flopped back down into one of the chairs. "He's a football player and Mary Margaret was making goo-goo eyes at him," she said. "And he was asking about her. I don't even know his name."

Gold tapped his fingertips pensively on the table. "She might prove useful," he said. 

"No!" Emma said.

"We are assuming he's human, Miss Swan," Gold said. "What harm can there be if Miss Blanchard happens to make conversation with him?"

"Have you seen Mary Margaret around boys?" Emma said, horrified. "Conversation doesn't happen. Blushing and stammering and running to the bathroom happens." She shook her head. "I'd have better luck. Even Jeff would be able to get more out of him than Mary Margaret."

"Then you can charm him," Gold said.

Emma pulled a face. "Yeah. That's gonna happen." She glanced at her watch. "I'm gonna jump in the shower. Can you do Henry's breakfast this morning? I need to get vamp dust out of my hair."

Gold nodded, rising. "Of course," he said. "Poptarts are his preference, aren't they?"

Emma grinned. "Breakfast of kings," she said. 

By the time she came back from the bathroom, towelling her hair, Henry was sitting at the table, halfway through his poptart and glass of milk. He waved in greeting, his cheeks puffed out with food.

"Morning," she said, sitting down beside him.

Henry gulped down his food. "You were out again last night?"

Emma glanced sidelong at Gold. No matter how deeply they believed he was sleeping, somehow, he always knew when she'd slipped out of the house. Emma was starting to wonder if he had some kind of tracker on her. "I went to the Rabbit Hole with Mary Margaret," she lied. "There was a party."

"Oh." Henry returned to his poptart. He nibbled at the edge. "Will you take me?"

"Not until you're old enough, kid," she said. "They don't let you in without ID."

Henry made a face. "That sucks."

"That's life," Emma replied, ruffling his hair.

He looked up at her hopefully. "Can we do a movie night tonight?" he asked. "You won't be out tonight, right?"

Emma hesitated. If there was a new demon in Storybrooke, she would have to patrol, but she could always go out after Henry's bedtime. "We can do a movie, but you have your curfew," she reminded him. "You have to pick something that isn't too long."

Henry nodded eagerly. "I'll pick something good."

"I bet you will," Emma said fondly. She grabbed some of the toast from Gold's toast rack and lathered it with peanut butter. "Gold'll take you to the rental store after school."

"Will I indeed?" Henry looked pleadingly at him. "Oh, very well."

Henry grinned from ear to ear.

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

"You want me to bug him?" Jeff asked eagerly.

Emma pulled a face. "You're already bugging me."

Jeff waved a hand. "no, no, no," he said. "I mean actual-bug. Like a wire?"

The Slayer slowly looked at him. "Jeff, please tell me you're joking."

Jeff fidgeted sheepishly. "Hypothetically," he said, "if I could get a bug on him, would you want me to?"

"Hypothetically," she replied, "would it be breaking the law?"

He shifted from foot to foot. "Hypothetically, yes," he said.

"Then actually no," Emma said. She opened her locker and wedged her books into the narrow space. Jeff groaned like she had just cancelled Christmas, and she closed the door, giving him a stern look. "No. We can't do anything illegal, Jeff. We could get caught and get in trouble."

"Hey," Jeff said indignantly. "Give me some credit. I wouldn't get caught."

"Caught doing what?" Mary Margaret said, joining them at Emma's locker.

"Spying on the football team," Jeff replied.

Mary Margaret looked at him. "Jeff, are you trying to tell us something?"

Jeff spluttered.

"We need to know about that new guy," Emma replied, as they headed in the direction of the classroom. "I was out hunting last night, and we ran into each other just before we found a body." She lowered her voice. "We need to rule him out as a suspect."

"The new guy?" Mary Margaret's cheeks went pink.

"Yeah," Emma said. "Captain Hottie, if you're anything to judge by."

"Emma!" Mary Margaret protested, blushing.

"Jeff," Emma said, grinning at her, "you got any marshmallows? I think we could make smores off Mary Margaret's face."

"Shut up," Mary Margaret mumbled.

"If it helps," Jeff said, "your eye candy might be a killer demon."

Emma socked him on the arm. She glanced down the hall. "Just to be on the safe side," she said, "I think we should send someone else in as the first contact."

Jeff and Mary Margaret followed her line of sight. 

"Not like she'd let us near him anyway," Jeff agreed.

"You think she'll help?"

Emma smiled. "You just have to ask her the right way," she said. 

 

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

Regina was as useful as Emma expected.

They caught up with her between classes, and loudly declared she probably didn’t even know his name yet.

Of course she knew all about the new guy, this David Nolan! Like she wouldn't. She could even tell them his shoe size. Oh, they didn't believe her? They didn't believe she knew he was transferring in from Boston? Or how about the fact that he was living outside of town, in his own place?

Jeff earned a slap when he said it was sweet that she actually learned so much before playing the football team's bicycle.

"You could have defended me," he grumbled to Emma, as they went to find Mary Margaret in the library. He was rubbing his stinging cheek. 

"Not when you deserved it," Emma replied. "Just because a girl speaks to guys doesn't make her a big ho."

Jeff went red, and Emma pushed by him into the library. 

The librarian was sitting behind the desk and looked up with a smile. "Miss Swan, isn't it?"

Emma stopped short. "Um. Yeah," she said, puzzled. "Have we met?"

The librarian shook her head. "I saw you mentioned in the paper," she said. She had a strange accent, definitely not American. "About that explosion. It was brought up in the staff lounge."

Emma grimaced. "That. Right." The attention was the last thing she had wanted. Most of the kids in school had a short-term memory about it, but sometimes, someone would look at her in a confused way, as if they recognised her. "Then hi, I guess."

The woman rose from the chair. "I know this is probably a bit inappropriate, but Mr Gold is your guardian, isn't he? The man who owns the antique shop?"

Emma's frown deepened. "Yeah."

The librarian's face lit up. "Oh, good!" She hurried to a shelf and returned with a book that Emma recognised. "I borrowed this off him a few weeks ago." She held it out hopefully. "Would you be able to get it back to him? I just haven't had time to drop by."

Emma took the book. "Uh, sure. I guess," she said. "What shall I tell him?"

"Just that Miss French appreciated it," the librarian replied with a smile that dimpled her cheeks. "I might come by and raid his collection again some time."

Emma nodded slowly, turning away with the book, then paused, looking back. "Is Mary Margaret in here?" she asked.

Miss French nodded. "She's up in the study area," she said. "At the back, on the right."

Emma and Jeff hurried up the stairs into the body of the library, and Emma looked at the book in her hand. "Gold didn't tell me he'd been trading books with the school librarian," she said suspiciously. 

"Maybe he thinks she's cute?" Jeff said with a grin. 

"Jeff!" 

He grinned even more and wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe you'll end up with a step-watcher."

Emma socked him on the arm, but before he could protest, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the shelter of the stacks, a frown on her face.

"What?" he hissed, trying to tug his arm free. 

She nodded through a break in the shelves.

Mary Margaret was sitting at one of the study desks, and she was looking up with a smile at the guy leaning on the edge of her desk. It was David Nolan. He was smiling as sappily as she was, his hands folded in his lap, and he said something that made Mary Margaret duck her head, blushing and laughing.

Jeff groaned. "What part of 'might be a demon' did she miss?"

Emma shushed him, and they waited until David headed away, and Mary Margaret turned back to her books. She was still smiling when Emma tapped her on the shoulder.

Mary Margaret flushed to the roots of her hair. "Emma!"

"So about you hanging out with our prime suspect," Emma said dryly.

"You saw...?" Mary Margaret buried her face in her hands. "Oh God."

"If he gores you through the heart, don't say we didn't tell you so," Jeff said. "Is this because he's a football player?"

"No!" Mary Margaret said indignantly. "It's because he's nice! He came up to talk to me! What was I meant to do? Tell him to go away?"

"Yes!" Emma said. "Exactly! Until we know he's safe, you shouldn't be near him!"

"Um." Mary Margaret lowered her eyes, blushing even more. 

Emma sagged to sit on the edge of the desk. "Don't tell me you're seeing him again."

"He asked me to go for pizza with him," Mary Margaret said. "And even if he's a demon, he won't kill me in a public place! And I figure I could learn more about him if I agreed."

"I'm starting to go with what Jeff said," Emma said. "If he gores you..."

Mary Margaret pulled a face. "He might not be a demon."

"Okay, maybe he's not," Emma allowed. "But what if that's true?"

Mary Margaret's face split in a grin. "Then I went on a date with a hot football player, who asked me out."

Emma and Jeff exchanged hopeless looks.

 

__________________________________________________________

 

Gold spread the pages of the book open. "Based on the markings left in the wound," he said, "it's the demon known as the lover."

Emma peered at the illustrations, then leaned back, looking sickened. "The lover?" she echoed. "That doesn't exactly look loving."

Gold nodded, smoothing the page. "It has a Latin name, which is even more euphemistic," he said. "When you have a demon which has a horn that sticks out of its body when it embraces its prey, I don't think you need me to give you a detailed diagram."

Emma shuddered. "No," she agreed. "I can use my imagination." She winced. "Kinda wish I hadn't." She looked up at him. "Why the horn, though? What's it for?"

"It can pass as human," Gold replied. "It's only when it needs to feed that the vestigial horn emerges. It has to skewer its victim's heart. I'm not sure of the exact details, but from the sound of it, it drains the life out of the victim through it."

"And again, I don't need a detailed diagram," Emma said, pulling a face. "How do I kill it?"

"From the accounts I've seen, it must be killed while feeding," Gold said. "You sever the horn and that should be enough to kill it."

They both looked around at footsteps on the stairs, and Gold slammed the book closed a moment before Henry poked his head around the door of the shop.

"I thought I heard you come in," he said, rushing over to Emma. "Did Mr Gold tell you what film we got?"

She glanced at Gold. "No," she said. "He wanted you to surprise me."

Henry grinned. "You'll love it," he said, slipping his hand into hers. "Can we watch it while we have dinner?"

Gold smiled his small, thin smile. "I don't see why not," he said. 

Emma squeezed Henry's hand. "You run upstairs and set out the small tables. I'll be up in a second."

Henry nodded at once, clattering away. 

Emma looked at Gold. "If David Nolan is this demon, he's going on a date with Mary Margaret tonight," she said. 

"You let your friend date a possible demon?" Gold said in disbelief.

"Oh, trust me," she said, "I didn't let her do anything, but you tell Mary Margaret no, and she'll do the opposite." She pushed off from the counter. "I asked Jeff to go along and watch out for them to make sure David doesn't try anything. I'm going to meet him there after we watch Henry's movie."

"And if he does try anything?" Gold said.

"You know Mary Margaret," she said with a crooked smile. "I'm starting to think she carries a tazer in her purse."

 

_________________________________________________________

 

The pizza parlour wasn’t exactly a classy place, but it was better than the usual date sites around Storybrooke. They had real candles on the tables, even if the tablecloths were made of plastic and were just wiped down between customers.

Emma peered in through the window as discreetly as she could. Henry had picked out some cheesy Disney film, and she had enjoyed it, even if happy endings seemed like something that only ever happened in movies, but the hunt for the demon had to take priority.

As soon as her brother was tucked up in bed, she’d slipped out through the shop and headed to the pizza parlour. Jeff was inside, keeping a close watch on Mary Margaret and David, who were entirely wrapped up in one another at one of the middle tables. 

Secretly, Emma hoped she was wrong about David being a demon, because Mary Margaret was smiling like it was Christmas. It must be nice, she thought, perching on the low rail by the wall, to have someone who could make her smile like that. 

Her cell buzzed in her pocket and she withdrew it, checking for the message.

Jeff was obviously bored watching the love birds.

ARE YOU SURE HE ISN’T A DEMON OF DULLNESS?

Emma snickered, tapping in her own message.

U WNTD 2 WATCH. UR OWN FAULT. 

She glanced through the window and saw Jeff tucked in at a side table. He mimed shooting himself, then flinched when she did at a scream nearby. 

Emma was on her feet instantly, running from the restaurant door and looking around. She heard a crash and a clatter from the alley that flanked the restaurant. It was blocked by a dumpster, but she put her shoulder against it and shoved. 

It must have been full, and barely moved until she threw everything she had at it. She could hear sobbing on the other side and the moment she managed to move the dumpster, a young woman stumbled out, one shoe missing and her dress torn.

She stared at Emma, who stared back.

“Are you okay?” she asked stupidly. “Did someone attack you?”

The girl pointed down the alley with a shaking finger.

Emma patted her shoulder then ran down into the alley.

It was even darker than the one from the previous night, and she could hear something gurgling and gasping up ahead. Emma shifted the knife in her hand. She could hear footsteps fading, and the light from the back door of the restaurant fell across a pair of legs.

They were scaled, inhuman, and she edged closer.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw the demon. It was the one from Gold’s book, and it didn’t look like a human anymore, apart from having arms, legs and a head. Scarlet eyes with slits for pupils fixed on her face, and the creature held up a clawed hand, but she didn’t know if it was beckoning or warding her away.

Emma’s eyes drifted to its chest.

There should have been a horn, where a human’s sternum would have been.

Instead, there was a ragged stump, bleeding black liquid.

It was dying, but slowly, painfully.

“Ssssslayer,” it whispered. No. It pleaded.

Emma knelt beside it, nodded, and raised the knife. Severing a head was enough to kill most things, and she was almost certain she saw relief in the creature’s eyes as she made the first cut. When the light went from its eyes, when it was divided into head and body, she rocked back on her heels, her mouth dry.

The girl hadn’t killed it, that she was sure of.

Someone else had.

But it was dead, and that meant David Nolan wasn’t a demon after all.

She wiped her hands and cleaned her knife, then flipped the nearest manhole cover and shoved head and body down into the darkness. Only when there was no trace of the demon did she return to the front of the restaurant, just in time to see Mary Margaret and David emerging into the evening. 

Jeff followed a moment behind them, though he stopped dead at the sight of Emma in the shadows.

“Aren’t you following him?”

Emma shook her head. “He’s not the demon,” she said quietly. “It’s dead.”

“You got it?” Jeff brightened.

Emma shook her head. “Something did.” She glanced in the direction that Mary Margaret and David had gone. “Did they seem okay? I mean, apart from the fact we thought he was a creepy demon?”

Jeff nodded. “They talked all night. He laughed at all her jokes and paid her all kinds of compliments, and didn’t leave her at all, except to go to the bathroom just before they left,” he said. “I think he might really like her.”

Emma smiled wearily. A demon killer could be worried about another day. A sort of friend getting a decent boyfriend was something to be happy about. She nudged Jeff’s shoulder. “Want to come back to Gold’s for hot chocolate?”

Jeff nodded eagerly. “Anything that isn’t spying on the lovebirds anymore.”

 

______________________________________________________

 

The door of the abandoned house creaked.

It would have to be seen to.

It wasn’t that the house was in a bad state. It was in good condition. A little dusty, perhaps, but something that had been a vampire’s nest often was left that way. It looked intact enough that no one asked questions when he moved in.

David Nolan closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. 

One hand rubbed at his chest, and the bloody smear that was hidden behind a black shirt.

The lover didn’t like to have its feed interrupted, and he didn’t want it to go after someone else, not again. He unbuttoned his shirt and checked the wound. It hadn’t cut deep enough to hit the heart, but it was still raw and bloody. It would heal. Just like the ones before it.

He crossed the floor to the study, the room that was always shuttered against daylight, and withdrew a bundle from his sleeve. It was wrapped in a kitchen towel he had grabbed when he ran through the kitchen in the restaurant. It was blackened with demon blood. Mary Margaret had thought he was in the bathroom. It was safer for her to believe that. 

Slowly, he unwrapped the bundle by the light of a small lamp.

The lover’s horn glittered unnaturally in the light.

David gazed at it, then opened a small wooden chest. A dozen more horns, some smaller, some larger, all gleamed there. He picked up the newest acquisition and put it into the chest, closing the lid and locking it. 

“Another one down,” he murmured, laying his hand over the layers of scars on his chest.


	5. Green Eyed

It could have been any room in any house in Storybrooke. There was a bed. There were curtains drawn over the windows. Jewellery was scattered on a dresser. There was even a family photograph propped beside the lamp.

But most houses in Storybrooke did not have black candles lit on every surface.

They didn't include hooded cloaks very often either. 

A tall mirror stood in the middle of the room, the glass shimmering strangely by the candlelight.

Strange symbols were drawn on the floor in chalk, and marks were painted onto the frame of the mirror one by one, the brush dipping in a shallow dish. The contents of the bowl looked almost black in the half-light, but as the brush dripped, the drops sparked red.

"Give me eyes," the painter whispered, "and let me see."

The surface of the glass rippled, as if it was coming alive. Faces flickered in the glass, some strangers, some familiar, and fingertips traced along the cool glass as one in particular came into focus.

“Good.”

______________________________________________

 

“Why do we have to be here?” Emma said, sprawling back on the bottom bench of the stands, her legs splayed in front of her.

“Team spirit?” Mary Margaret said hopefully, beaming at her.

Emma looked dubiously out onto the field where the team were warming up. “Are you sure this isn’t so you can see David running around in tight pants?” she asked, smirking when Mary Margaret flushed scarlet. “Team spirit. Right.”

“What are you doing here?”

Emma raised a hand to shield her eyes. “God! Could they have picked out a brighter costume for you? It’s like you wanted to be noticed or something!”

Regina put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. She was dressed in the brilliant scarlet uniform of the Storybrooke High cheerleaders. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “This is a training session for team and cheerleaders only.”

Mary Margaret looked up at her placidly. “I was invited,” she said.

Regina stared at her in disbelief. “By who?”

Emma grinned. “You mean you don’t know? Queen Regina doesn’t know that David Nolan is dating Mary Margaret?”

The cheerleader’s mouth opened in astonishment. “If that’s a joke…”

“It’s no joke,” Mary Margaret said, getting to her feet with a smile. “Hey!”

David Nolan was jogging towards them with a smile. “Hey,” he said, leaning down to kiss Mary Margaret lightly. She went even pinker. “I’m glad you made it.”

Regina was looking from one to the other in disbelief. “You can’t be dating her!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Funny,” David said. “It feels like I am.” He looked back at Mary Margaret. “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Movie and dinner? Sure!” 

“Hey, Nolan!” David turned in time to catch a ball in the belly. Daniel ran over, grinning at him. “We didn’t come here to watch you be Prince Charming at your girlfriend. You’re the newbie in the team. That’s why we’re having extra training.”

“Okay, okay,” David said with a laugh. “I get it.” He spun the ball in his hands. “You going to stay to watch me get pummelled?”

Mary Margaret laughed. “I think that could be fun,” she said. She glanced sidelong at Regina, who was scowling darkly. “But I don’t think I’m welcome.”

“I don’t see why not,” David said, frowning. “Do you mind if they hang out, Regina?”

“It’s training,” she said sharply. “They’re not in the team and they’re not cheerleaders. Training isn’t a spectator sport.”

Daniel reached out and squeezed Regina’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice that she blushed as red as her uniform. “Hey,” he said with a quick smile, “you’ll get to show off your moves. I thought you liked doing that in front of an audience.”

“I-I guess,” Regina said, twisting her hands together. “Okay, you guys can stay.”

“Great!” Daniel swung around. “Come on, Charming. Eyes on the ball, not on the girl.”

Whatever had happened shattered the minutes the guys were out of sight.

Mary Margaret was staring at her like she had grown a second head.

“Huh,” Emma said. “So you and Daniel…”

Regina turned on them, eyes flashing. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped. “And you can keep your eyes off him.” She leaned closer. “And if you’re going to stay, sit down and shut up. We’re here to work and we don’t need you distracting us.”

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged grins, returning to the benches.

“How about that,” Emma said as Regina stalked off. “You’re not the only one here perving on the guys in tight pants.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said, socking her on the arm.

Emma grinned, lying back on the bench and closing her eyes. “Wake me up if something interesting happens,” she said, draping her arm over her eyes. “And I don’t mean if they bend over in front of you or something.”

“You’re just jealous,” Mary Margaret said.

Emma snorted, stretching out her legs. “Yeah. That’s what I do.”

 

___________________________________________________________

 

The nights of the full moon were the best nights for performing magic out of door.

With the light of the moon, no torches or candlelight was needed, and the only flame that was lit was the one used in the casting of the spells.

The clearing in the forest had been neatened. The dirt had been swept smooth, and symbols were dragged into it with a stick, curves and sweeping lines, letters from languages and alphabets long forgotten.

A copper bowl was propped on a small circle of stones, filled with a mess of objects: a lock of black hair, a lace from a boot, a scrap cut from a towel. They were sprinkled with bright petals of China Aster.

The cloaked figure knelt, picking up a pestle and mortar and grinding fragments of heartstone root to powder. It was powerful in the conjuring of love magic, and that was exactly what was needed on a night like this. 

The small flame was stoked with dry grass and leaves, and the power added, turning the flame a vivid scarlet.

“Aphrodite, hear my plea,” the girl said, taking up the copper bowl. “Draw these emotions and cast them aside. Let him walk unseen, and let him be blind.” The bowl was swirled three times clockwise, then three times anticlockwise, then upended into the flames, which leapt and burned green.

Regina fell back, raising her arm to shield her eyes.

“There,” she said, setting the bowl down. “Much better.”

 

__________________________________________________

 

Emma and Henry rushed through the sliding doors. 

It was pouring with rain, and that was why Mr Gold dropped them at the mall, instead of making them walk. It sucked that it was raining on a weekend, but they didn’t want to be stuck in the house all day. Going out to the movies and then having a burger seemed the best plan.

Emma was surprised Gold didn’t argue, but he said he had stuff to do, handed them their allowance, and dropped them at the mall. 

“You want to hit the stores first?” she asked. “Or straight to the movies?”

Henry shrugged happily, slipping his hand into hers. “What do you want to do?”

Emma looked around. The stores were still quiet, and the movie they wanted to see was playing four times throughout the day. “How about we hit the stores first, then get some candy and then the movie?”

He would have agreed with her, she knew, even if she had told him the movie was cancelled and they were going to sit and stare at a blank wall for six hours. They headed deeper into the mall, and by the time they finally reached the cinema, Henry had spent part of his allowance on a large bag of candy for them to share. 

The movie was okay, but it was definitely something more for kids: witches and wizards and adventures with magic. Emma let her eyes glaze over, staring at the screen and occasionally taking a handful of candy when Henry nudged her fingers with the bag.

“Did you like it?” Henry asked as they emerged.

“It was okay,” Emma said. “What was your favourite part?”

Henry’s face lit up and he went into a blow-by-blow summary of the whole film. Even if she had watched it, she knew she wasn’t missing anything. The next thing she knew, he would be asking for a sword like the kid in the poster. 

She nodded and made sounds of agreement as they headed to the food court.

There weren’t many great places to eat, but it was better than going out in the rain or calling Gold to ask for a lift somewhere else. 

“What do you want to eat?” she asked, cutting across his replay of the battle scene.

Henry paused, looking around. “Burger!” he declared, pointing in the direction of one of the burger bars. “Can I have an extra large shake too?”

“You never finish them,” Emma said with a crooked smile.

Henry made a face. “Okay, just a large,” he agreed.

There was a short line, and Emma groaned aloud when she saw who had stepped into line behind them.

Regina Mills, tapping away at her cell. 

Emma kept her eyes ahead, hoping they would go unnoticed, and then she noticed the other problem ahead of them. Daniel Chevalier was one of the people working behind the counter. She glanced back at Regina to see if she had noticed who was going to be serving them, and Regina looked up from her phone.

To Emma’s shock, she smiled.

“You were at training with Mary what’s-her-name, right?”

“Uh,” Emma said. “Yeah. Emma.” She jerked her head in the direction of the counter, and Daniel, who was just sending his last customer off with their food. “I guess you want to be the one to go to Daniel?”

Regina leaned sideways, then shrugged. “You were first,” she said. She smiled at Henry, who smiled shyly back. “You need to look after your little brother.”

“Thanks!” Henry said, dragging Emma up towards the counter.

Emma looked back at Regina who had returned her attention to her phone. “Okay,” she said, “that was kind of weird.”

“It was?” Henry said. He propped his arms on the counter. “Hi!”

Daniel smiled down at him. “Hey. How can I help you today?”

Henry looked up at Emma, who nodded distractedly. “We want burgers,” he said. “Double-burgers with large fries. I want a large chocolate milkshake and Emma…” He nudged her, making her look around, startled. “What do you wanna drink?”

“Uh. Coke. Coke is good.” She watched Regina go to another server. She didn’t even look in Daniel’s direction, and when there was a football player in the area, that wasn’t normal. It wasn’t until Henry tugged her arm that she realised she was staring. 

“You gotta pay,” he whispered.

Emma nodded, paying what was due and taking the tray. Henry rushed away to save them a seat, and was kneeling up at the table as she set the tray down. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re looking kinda confused.”

Emma glanced around, but Regina was gone. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that girl from school isn’t usually so…” She frowned. “Well, nice, I guess.”

“Maybe she’s not like she is at school on weekends?” Henry suggested, opening the wrapped of his burger carefully, and taking one of the cartons of fries. She couldn’t help noticing that he picked up all the fries that had fallen loose and shared them equally between their cartons.

“Maybe,” she agreed. She opened up her own burger, taking out the pickle. “Don’t forget to take your time this time, okay? I don’t want you to get sick again from eating too fast.”

Henry’s cheeks were already stuffed, but he swallowed down a mouthful. “Yes, mom,” he said, ducking over his burger.

The rain had stopped by the time they were done, and they headed for the doors.

“Hey!” Henry raised a hand in greeting “Mary Margaret! Hi!”

Emma rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. “What did we say about the yelling in public places?” she said, nodding in greeting to Mary Margaret, who was hand-in-hand with David. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” David said, smiling. “Your brother?”

“My shadow,” Emma said, putting her arm around Henry’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “You going shopping?”

“We’re going to the movies,” Mary Margaret said. She was frowning at Emma. “David, we’re going to be late.”

David smiled at her. “We can’t have that,” he said, “not without popcorn. See you at school, Emma.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, turning to watch them go. Mary Margaret shot a dark look over her shoulder, then leaned closer to David as they walked away. It wasn’t like Mary Margaret to glare at anyone. “Huh.”

“Emma?”

She shook herself, giving Henry a quick smile. “Sorry, kid,” she said. “It’s been a weird day.”

 

___________________________________________________________

 

“You can’t be serious.”

Emma caught the packet of chips that Jeff threw to her. “Completely,” she said. “Regina was all charm and manners and Mary Margaret looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.”

“You were getting in the way of dating, so Mary Margaret I get,” Jeff said, sprawling into the chair opposite her. “But Regina being nice? Has Gold been looking at the portents and prophecies? Because if you ask me, that’s end of the world stuff.”

Emma snorted. “Maybe she’s just like that outside of school,” she said, propping her foot up on the spare chair. 

“Mm. Yeah.” Jeff considered it then shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Emma opened the bag of chips and nodded towards the door of the cafeteria, where Regina had just entered with several of the cheerleaders. “Go and bother her, then,” she said. “See if it’s a one-off.”

“And if she’s nice to me?”

“Then we start panicking,” Emma said.

Jeff rammed his purple velvet hat on his head, straightened the lapels of his frock coat and strode towards her. Emma couldn’t hear what was said, but Jeff returned with a sickly smile on his face. 

“One-off?” Emma asked with a helpless grin. 

“With bells on,” Jeff agreed. “I didn’t even get the chance to say anything.”

Emma offered him a chip in compensation. “We should go and test Mary Margaret too,” she said. “Make sure the big evil has left her as well.”

“Where would she be?”

Emma pushed herself to her feet. “Within a three meter radius of a certain ball player we both know.”

Jeff snorted. “He’s nothing special.”

“No,” Emma agreed. “Just tall, handsome, athletic, charming…”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” Jeff grumbled, trailing after her. 

Emma headed for the quad. There were a group of tables under a canopy where the football team usually gathered, come rain or shine, and it wasn’t a big surprise to see them clustered there, but the yelling was new.

Jeff caught Emma’s arm. “Sounds like someone picked a fight.”

Emma groaned. “Better break it up before Doc Kunis hauls her ass down from her office,” she said, rushing over to the crowd, pushing her way to the middle of it. David was there, and he was hauling Mary Margaret back from one of the cheerleaders.

“Emma!” he called, shoving Mary Margaret into Emma’s hold. “Get her out of here!”

Emma, too startled to ask what the hell was going on, caught her friend by the arm and hauled her quickly back towards the main building, Jeff rushing after them.

Mary Margaret struggled against her grip. “Let me go!”

“Can’t do that,” Emma said, shoving her into one of the vacant classrooms. She caught Mary Margaret by the shoulders, looking her up and down. There were scratches on her face, oozing red, and her lower lip was swollen. “God. Are you okay? Why did she attack you?”

Mary Margaret batted her hands away. “I’m fine,” she said, pulling out a pack of Kleenex to dab at her cheek. “She was making moves on David. I asked her not to.” She shrugged, wincing as she cautiously touched her lower lip. “She didn’t want to be told what to do by a non-cheerleader.”

“You should get those scratches checked,” Emma said, leaning closer to look at them. “I know they’re probably not going to get infected, but you can’t be too careful.”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “They’d ask questions,” she said. “And Chantelle or Mitzi or whatever her name was would probably tell.” She looked at Emma. “Does it look bad?”

“I’ve seen worse,” Emma said.

“It looks like you got in a fight,” Jeff said honestly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not a get-in-fights kind of person.”

“I wasn’t a have-a-boyfriend person before either,” Mary Margaret said grimly. “Just because I don’t wear short skirts or wave pompoms doesn’t mean I’m going to let some bimbo spread herself all over my boyfriend.”

“Don’t blame you,” Emma said. “I try not to think about them like that, but some of them are just as bad as the stereotype.”

“It’s the skirts,” Jeff said. “And the jiggling parts.”

“You’re a pig, Jeff,” Emma snorted.

“Correction,” Jeff said. “I’m a teenage boy. I don’t have the brain-part that stops me staring when girls shake their bits around yet.”

Emma looked at Mary Margaret ruefully. “Now I see why you’re dating a senior.”

 

__________________________________________________

 

“Something’s bothering you.”

Emma looked up from her glass. “Mm?”

“You hardly touched your food,” Gold said, nodding to her plate. A trail of white blobs across the table leading to Henry’s plate showed where her neglected mashed potato had wandered off to. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just school stuff,” Emma said. “Henry, can you take the dishes to the kitchen?”

Henry nodded, getting up. She knew he would probably finish what was left on her plate, and knew she shouldn’t let him. 

She reached out as he passed and touched his arm. “Scrape the leftovers into the garbage disposal,” she said. “You ate enough, okay?” He looked at the remains of the pork chop on her plate, but nodded reluctantly. She watched him go, then buried her head in her hands.

“He’s doing well,” Gold murmured. “Much better than before.”

Emma drew a steadying breath and looked up. “I know,” she said. “But it’s not something you just forget.” She sat back in her chair. “You ever heard of people switching personalities?”

“As in the disorder?”

Emma shook her head. “No. Two people becoming exact opposites. As if they’ve been twisted up by… God, I don’t even know.”

Gold rested his arm on the edge of the table, his expression thoughtful. “Magic can achieve such a thing,” he said. “Have you seen something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “I thought I was just imagining it at first, but it feels like Mary Margaret has had a personality transplant. Ever since she started seeing David, she’s been spending all her time around him, which was fine, but she’s started getting in fights.” She shook her head. “I think she was cutting class too.”

“A young woman with a crush might do things that seem out of character,” Gold said. 

She knew he was talking gently, and knew why. She couldn’t help it if she saw demons and monsters and badness everywhere. It was what she did. “It’s more than that,” she said. “It’s not just her. Regina Mills has been acting weird too. Not so much, but I don’t really spend time with her of my own free will.”

They paused as Henry returned to fetch the glasses.

“And she has been fighting too?” Gold asked when Henry departed.

Emma snorted. “Regina has been nice. As in not-Queen-bitch,” she said. She frowned in thought. “But it’s only when they’re around the football team.” She looked at Gold. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“If it is, it’s certainly an odd one,” Gold agreed. “It doesn’t sound like something demonic, though it could be some kind of spell.” He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s much more than youth at play, but if you want to keep a watch on both of them, and see if anything else changes.”

“I’m already doing that with Mary Margaret,” Emma admitted. “She’s biting everyone’s head off lately, if she’s not near David.”

“David, who you believed was a demon?” Gold said mildly.

“Yeah, but this is nothing to do with that,” Emma said.

Gold smiled slightly. “You’ve had few friends before,” he said. “Maybe the idea of sharing one of them…”

Emma’s expression was enough to silence him and she folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not imagining this,” she said coolly. “Just because I look like a kid doesn’t mean you can use child psyche on me. There’s something wrong. I know it.”

Gold inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Keep a close watch on them. If things get any worse, then we can look closer.”

Emma nodded grudgingly. 

 

_______________________________________________________

 

 

“Get off me! Get off me, you crazy freak!”

“Mary Margaret!” David wrapped his arms around Mary Margaret’s waist, dragging her off Ashley, one of the cheerleaders. “Stop!”

“I told that her to stop looking at you!” Mary Margaret yelled, fighting against his grip. “You stupid bitch! He’s mine! You don’t get to look at him, understand?”

Ashley scrambled back across the grass, helped to her feet by Daniel and Shaun. “I don’t even want him!” she sobbed, her hand to her scratched face. 

“What’s going on here?” 

David kept a grip on Mary Margaret’s arms, even as he turned them both to face the Principal. Doctor Kunis hardly ever came out of her office, but he figured she must have heard something about the fights on the sports field that had been happening more and more often.

He didn’t know what had happened to Mary Margaret to make her act so crazy, but it wasn’t like her, not when they were alone.

“That freak attacked me for no reason!” Ashley said, leaning on Shaun’s arm. “I was talking to David and she attacked me!”

“Talking! Ha!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “That’s not what I saw!”

David pulled Mary Margaret back against his chest. “Mary Margaret,” he said softly, close to her ear. “You’re not helping yourself. Calm down.” She was breathing hard and shaking, so he rubbed her arms gently, reassuringly. “You’re all right. I’m here. I’m still with you, okay?”

She nodded jerkily.

“Miss Blanchard,” the Principal said. “If you don’t mind, I will speak to you and Miss Boyd in my office. Now.”

Mary Margaret turned to look up at David, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear,” she said, her voice breaking.

She meant it too.

David touched her cheek gently. “It’s okay,” he said. “You go and talk to the Principal. I’ll meet you after, okay?”

He waited until she was out of sight, then headed into the school to try and find Mary Margaret’s friends. If anyone would know anything about her strange behaviour, they would be the ones to notice it.

They were just coming out of class when he spotted them and rushed over.

“David?” Emma looked around. “Where’s Mary Margaret? Did you lose her?”

David shook his head. “I think something’s wrong,” he said. “She just got taken to the Principal’s office for starting a fight with Ashley Boyd.”

Emma stared at him. “Ashley?”

“Blonde girl,” Jeff supplied helpfully. “Smart as a brick.”

Emma elbowed him. “Shut up, Jeff,” she said. “But why Ashley?”

“Because she spoke to me,” David replied. “This isn’t like her. She’s not acting like herself.”

Emma looked at Jeff, as if she’d been expecting it. “Nice to see someone else has finally noticed,” she said. She looked back at David. “We think something has been affecting her and Regina. Has Regina been acting strangely around you at training?”

David shook his head, frowning. “She stopped coming three days ago,” he said. “They asked her to leave the team. She didn’t seem to care anymore.”

“Jeff!” Emma exclaimed. “You said you were watching the cheerleaders to keep an eye on Regina.”

“Um.” Jeff went beetred. “I was watching. Sort of.”

Emma rubbed her temples with her fingers. “Okay. So Regina had to leave the team because she suddenly didn’t care about football,” she said. “And Mary Margaret went all possessively crazy… because she did care…” 

“You’re telling me their personalities flipped?” David said in disbelief.

Emma looked suddenly wary. “That’s crazy,” she said, laughing. It sounded forced. “You think they switched personalities? By what? Magic? Oh, yeah. That happens.”

David frowned. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “What do we do?”

“You’ll need to stick around and make sure you keep Mary Margaret away from anyone else that you’ve talked to,” Emma said. “Jeff and I will try and find Regina.”

“We will?” Jeff looked indignant.

“You lost her,” Emma snapped, “you help me find her.”

“What do we do when we have them?” David asked.

Emma hesitated long enough for him to know she was about to lie. “Get her to Gold’s antique shop. We’ll meet you there.”

David watched them rush away.

There was something strange about the Swan girl.

One day, he might ask Mary Margaret. But definitely not on a day when she was ready to hit any girl he mentioned or who looked at him twice.

 

___________________________________________________

 

 

Jeff rattled the knocker, then prodded the bell twice.

“Quit it,” Emma said, dragging him back from the door. “We don’t want them to think we’re two crazy kids.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jeff said. “I’ve heard Regina’s mom’s a hardass. I think it’d be safer if she thinks we’re two crazy kids instead of a Slayer and her sidekick, who have come to find out if her daughter’s been possessed.”

Emma looked sidelong at him. “Since when have you been my sidekick?”

He beamed at her. “Since you stopped telling me to stop following you on patrol.”

Before she could reply, the door opened.

The woman standing there could have been Regina in her forties. She was in a suit, Jeff had a feeling that this was a woman that the term ‘ball-breaker’ could be applied to. “Can I help you?” she said, smiling with red lips.

“We’re… um… friends of Regina’s from school,” Emma said. “She wasn’t at cheerleading practise, so we wanted to come by and see if she was okay. Can we see her?”

Mrs Mills looked at them, then smiled again. It didn’t reach her eyes and Jeff had the feeling that Mommy Dearest didn’t like her daughter to have people around. “I’m sure she is,” she said. “But if you must.” She opened the door a little wider. “Top of the stairs and second door on the right.”

The place was huge.

Jeff’s parents weren’t exactly loaded, but they couldn’t have afforded the Mills’ house unless they sold all their body parts on the black market at a hundred times the asking price. The hall was vast and bright with tall windows, and the stairs were all polished wood.

Emma was halfway up before he remembered to follow.

It was quiet and neat too.

Quiet and neat in the way a house was when the parents were strict and the kids did as they were told.

Jeff decided that he preferred a small house with some noise and mess. 

Emma reached the door and knocked as he caught up. “Regina? Regina, can we come in?”

Regina opened the door, staring at them. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked shocked. “What are you doing here?” she said, blocking the way into her room with her body. “I didn’t ask you to come by.”

“We were worried,” Emma said.

“I wasn’t,” Jeff added. 

Regina started to close the door, but Emma wedged her foot in the gap. “We know there’s something wrong,” she said. “We heard you had to leave the team.” She spread her hand on the door. “I know you loved the team. You’d never leave it willingly.”

Regina’s eyes filled with tears and that was enough to weird Jeff out. “I don’t care,” she said in a broken voice. “I don’t care about football or cheerleading or…”

“Daniel?”

Panic crossed Regina’s face. “Who?”

Jeff stared at her. “Oh,” he said softly. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

Emma glanced at him, then back at Regina. “We can help,” she said. “Just let us in, tell us what happened.”

Reluctantly, Regina opened the door a little wider and let them in. 

Jeff looked around the room. “Magic stuff,” he murmured to Emma. “She’s been playing with magic. Look at the mirror.” He glanced around, spotting the spell book on the shelf and opened it up. “What did you use?” he asked. “Which spell?”

Regina was standing uncertainly in the middle of the floor. “I wanted to…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. There was something that didn’t need to be important.”

Jeff leafed through the pages, and found one that was marked. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” Emma said. “Bad oh? Or good oh?”

He looked up. “Oh, I think I know what happened,” he said. “You said Regina was antsy over you speaking to Daniel?” Emma nodded. He carried the book over to her. “I think this is what she did.”

“Banishment spell?” Emma said, looking at Regina, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands squeezed tightly together. “She banished her crush?”

“Not the crush,” Jeff said. “Everything. All the emotions, all the jealousy, the crap you feel when you feel bad, and all the good stuff too. Any emotion to do with Daniel, she got rid of. If he wasn’t interested, she wasn’t going to be. And you know why she did it.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Because of Mary Margaret,” she said quietly, “the person who was getting everything Regina wasn’t.” She winced. “And that’s why Mary Margaret has gone nuts, isn’t it? She’s got all the good and bad whammying her, but it’s just pointing in the direction of David.”

Jeff closed the book. “And this is why some people shouldn’t do magic without training,” he said, shaking his head.

“Says the voice of experience,” Emma said dryly. She hesitated, then went over to the bed and sat down by Regina, awkwardly patting her hands. She glanced up at Jeff. “It can be undone, right?” 

“Gold’s the better person to ask,” Jeff said. “I only read the books of spells. I don’t try and do them.”

Emma squeezed Regina’s hand. “See? We can help you get back to your usual self.”

Regina looked up at her. “Why?”

“Good question,” Jeff said. “Why, Emma?”

Emma helped the other girl to her feet. “Because I don’t want you or Mary Margaret to be stuck with this,” she said. “No one deserves that.” She led Regina towards the door, her hand at Regina’s shoulder.

“And if you were nicer to us after,” Jeff said, following and closing the door behind him, “that would be great.”

 

___________________________________________________

 

“And Ashley?”

“Tackled her, scratched her face, and pulled her hair,” David said gravely. 

Mary Margaret looked mortified. “Oh God. I-I don’t hit people. It’s not what I do!”

“We know that,” Emma said, grinning. “Which is why we figured out something was messing with your head and making you do it.”

Mary Margaret covered her face with both hands. The night before was all a bit of a blur, but she remembered everything coming into focus in Gold’s shop. It felt like she hadn’t really seen anyone but David for days. Gold told her to go home and rest, and Emma promised to fill her in on the details in the morning.

The filling-in wasn’t turning out to be much fun.

“I didn’t hurt anyone badly, did I?” she asked between her fingers.

“My feelings,” Jeff said with a sniff. “You abandoned your friends to hang out with the big, dumb jocks…” He paused, glancing at David. “No offence.”

“None taken,” David said. “Apart from the fact more than half of us are on the Honours roll, we’re all pretty big and dumb.”

Jeff flushed. “Uh… I didn’t mean…”

“He’s teasing you,” Emma said. She prodded Mary Margaret’s knee with her toe. “You do have detention, though.”

Mary Margaret lowered her hands, staring at her in horror. “Detention?”

“Mm. For fighting,” Emma said, grinning. “We’ll be manning desks side-by-side for the next week. It’ll be nice to have company for once.”

Mary Margaret folded her arms on the table in front of her and buried her head in them. “I’m a disgrace,” she moaned. “I’m a shameful, terrible disgrace!”

“If it helps,” David said, “you were cursed.”

She peeked up at him. “You’re not mad? Or freaking out? I mean magic…”

David shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff in my time,” he said. “Magic? Okay, it’s new, but stranger things have happened, right?”

Mary Margaret smiled crookedly. “Right.” She sighed. “I didn’t know Regina felt so bad about us, though. It must have sucked for her if she thought magic was the only way to stop feeling bad.”

Jeff leaned sideways in his chair. “I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about anymore,” he said, nodding towards the door.

Mary Margaret glanced over. 

Daniel and Regina had come into the cafeteria hand-in-hand, and Regina was smiling.

“Wait,” she said, “when did that happen?”

David reached out to take her hand. “I had a word with Daniel,” he said. “Turns out he thought she wasn’t interested in him.” He shook his head. “But if they’d just spoken to each other, I would never have seen you tackle Ashley Boyd into the dirt. That was totally worth a bit of dark mojo. You should have seen the look on her face!”

“David!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

He laughed. “What? You didn’t think I was Mr Goody-Two-Shoes all the time, did you?”

“Well, the saving me from expulsion did give me pause,” she admitted.

“If you guys are going to get all make-outy,” Emma said, pushing her chair back, “I’ll be elsewhere.” She met Mary Margaret’s eyes. “Just promise we can hang out sometimes, okay? Without footballers?”

Mary Margaret blushed. “Promise.”


	6. Careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implications of child abuse and the problems faced by some children in the foster system.

The curtains shifted in the breeze, making the shaft of misted moonlight quiver across the wooden floor. Strange shadows moved this way and that, and in the silence, there was the faint sound of something moving.

It could just have been the blankets catching on a box, or a book falling off a pile, or something boring and simple and dull.

The boy in the bed knew it wasn't.

He pulled the blankets over his head, curling up in a tight ball under the covers. "You're not here," he whispered. "You're not. You're not. You're not."

A floorboard creaked near the bed, and he wrapped his hands tighter into the bedding.

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't."

He heard felt the bed shift as something - or someone - sat down, and a hand on his shoulder through the blankets.

"Hey, little man."

The boy peeked out from beneath the covers. "Don't make me come out," he whispered. "Please."

The man ruffled his hair. "You know there's nothing to be afraid of."

The boy whimpered, looking over the man’s shoulder as a shadow grew, grew tall, grew strong, and opened gleaming eyes that burned like fire. "Please don't," he whispered. "Please!"

Black claws wrapped around the man’s throat and chest, and the man screamed.

The boy pulled the blanket back over his head. "No, no, no, no, no."

 

_______________________________________________________

 

 

Henry had a curfew.

Emma was strict about it.

He had dinner, they did his homework, and if there was time, he could watch TV, but he always had to be in bed by eight o'clock. He always was as well. She didn't mind if he snuck a torch into the bed and read under the covers, as long as he was in bed.

He knew she thought he didn't notice that she broke her own curfew.

He did.

Sometimes, when he listened real carefully, he could hear her footsteps on the stairs as she crept out at night. He knew he was meant to be asleep, but on those nights, he would sneak into her room and curl up in her bed and wait for her to come back.

It felt better to be there, to know right away when she was back.

He could still remember the time they tried to take her away from him, how much he had screamed and fought and bit and kicked. They sat in the room, holding him down, as she was driven away, and he screamed until his mouth tasted like blood.

She came back for him that night. No one took him away from her again, and if they tried, she had made a promise, a blood promise, that no one would stop her from finding him again. They had cut their fingers and pressed the tips together, and she had promised.

Mr Gold didn't try and keep them apart.

Henry liked Mr Gold, even if he was kind of weird. 

He had a big house, which meant they all had their own rooms, and there was even one side of the big room with a huge table for eating at. Mr Gold insisted on always having dinner there. Emma said he was anal, which Henry didn't understand, but she liked eating together like a regular family. Henry could tell. He could always tell, even when Emma was pretending not to.

It was the first place they'd stayed that felt safe. Henry didn't know what a real home was meant to feel like, but if home was a place where you felt safe and good and almost happy, then he figured that Mr Gold's house was sort of home.

He pulled his door open a crack, peeping out.

His bedroom opened onto the small hall that led off from the main room, with Emma's room next to his. Mr Gold was sitting in his big armchair with a book, a tablelamp lit beside him. Henry bit his lip. If he was quick, he could run down the hall and into Emma's room without Mr Gold noticing. 

He opened the door a little wider and edged out into the hall.

"If you're so determined to wait for your sister to return, you could join me," Mr Gold said.

Henry froze, one foot still in the air. He glanced sideways. Mr Gold wasn't even looking at him. He bit his lip and put his foot down, twisting his hands in the sleeves of his pyjamas. He didn't know if he was in trouble, but if he was, he knew to stay small and quiet and not make things worse. 

Mr Gold didn't look up right away, but when he did, he closed his book. 

"You're not in trouble, Henry," he said, beckoning Henry closer with a curl of his fingers. "I know you worry about Emma."

Henry approached him nervously, picking at his nails and twisting his fingers together. "You let her go out all the time."

Mr Gold smiled a funny little smile. "Do you think I could make your sister stay in if she didn't want to?"

Henry looked down at his hands. "Emma doesn't like doing what she's told," he admitted.

Mr Gold laughed. "That's a very diplomatic way of putting it," he said. He leaned forward in the seat. "How about I get us some hot chocolate? If you're going to be up, I might as well load you up on sugar."

Henry nodded shyly. 

 

________________________________________________________

 

 

“Will you put that thing down?”

Jeff swung the camera around to point at her. “I’m keeping a documentary,” he said. “In case I die horribly and people need evidence that I wasn’t nuts after all.”

Emma put her hand over the camera lens. “Do the words ‘secret’ and ‘identity’ mean nothing to you?” she inquired. “If you die and someone finds footage of me staking vampires and it ends up on the internet, I’m dead.”

“It’s just for me, I swear!” Jeff insisted, backing away as Emma ran at him, using a low grave as a springboard. She braced her hands on his shoulders, flipping over his head and brought her full weight down on the head of the vampire who had been trying to sneak up behind him.

The demon folded like paper, and Emma rolled as they both hit the ground, one hand automatically going to her back to bring out her stake.

Jeff had ducked down behind a grave, but she could see the top of his head out of the corner of her eye, as the vampire lunged at her. She could also see a blinking red light and made a mental note to steal the memory card from his camera.

She went to one knee, catching the vampire's arm and using its momentum to bring it over her shoulder on onto its back on the ground, and she was on it before it could break free of her grip on its arm. The stake cut through the chest and it erupted into dust beneath her.

"Wow." Jeff emerged over the top of the gravestone. "That was... fast."

Emma got to her feet, brushing herself down. "What can I say? I like to get the job done," she said.

"You couldn't..." Jeff fell silent when she raised her hand, looking around.

A siren was wailing somewhere nearby. "That doesn't sound good," she said.

"It might not be demony," Jeff said.

"But it might be," Emma said. "Anyway, we were only waiting for one vampire here. We might as well check it out."

Jeff followed her out of the cemetery, grumbling to himself, as she headed down towards town. It wasn't far until the saw the ambulance, and Emma caught his arm as a stretcher was carried out of the house. There was a man on it, or at least that's what she could guess from the build. She couldn't tell from the face, not when it was torn to shreds.

Jeff turned away behind her, and she heard him throwing him up in the gutter. 

A woman and child were standing in the doorway of the house. The boy's face was spattered with blood and he was clinging to his mother. The police were standing with them, speaking to them quietly.

"Stay put," Emma muttered to Jeff, then crept forward, keeping to the shadows, until she was close enough to hear.

"We'll have some questions for your boy, of course," the policeman was saying.

The woman looked at him blankly. "My Nicky didn't do anything," she said quietly. "He's only little."

"He might have seen something, ma'am," the policeman said. "We'll have some people meet you at the hospital." he stepped back to let her go down the steps to join the man in the ambulance. "Don't worry. We'll find whoever did this to your husband."

Emma wasn't watching them.

She was watching the blood-stained boy.

He looked sick with terror, and not just the fear of someone who had seen something horrible. He had seen something, it was true, but he knew something as well. He knew what it was that had hurt the man in the ambulance.

Emma retreated back to Jeff, who was still looking pale.

"You get home," she said. "I'm going to go to the hospital, see if I can find out more."

"I could come..."

She looked at him. "You just threw up," she said. "Do you think you'll be able to deal with seeing more?"

Jeff winced. "No," he agreed. "You'll let me know what happened?"

"Of course." She held out her hand and he looked at it warily. "Camera."

"But I..."

"You want to help, right?"

"But it..."

Emma tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

Five minutes later, she was on the way to the hospital, the camera tucked in her jacket pocket.

 

___________________________________________________________

 

Henry was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, watching Mr Gold make hot chocolate.

He usually stayed out of Mr Gold's way, except when Emma was around. It felt weird talking to a grown-up, especially a grown-up who would probably send them to another home soon. He didn't want to start liking him, even if Emma talked more to Mr Gold than any of the other carers who had looked after them. 

They never stayed in one place long.

Henry didn't want to start liking it all. It felt safe and good, but he still had his bag under his bed with his favourite things in it, for the day when they had to leave. 

"Emma seems to like cinnamon on her hot chocolate," Mr Gold said, as he poured them both up a frothy cup. "Do you?"

Henry nodded, plucking at the end of one sleeve with his fingers. "Did she say when she would be back?"

Mr Gold looked at him. "I'm afraid not," he said. "She was going with Jeff, if that's any reassurance."

Henry looked down at his hands. He wanted to know where she went. He wanted to know why she came back with bruises on her arms and blood on her hands. He wanted to know how she thought he didn't notice. But he didn't ask. He didn't dare. 

Mr Gold put the mug down in front of him. "She's a strong young woman, Henry," he said quietly. "You know that, don't you?"

Henry looked up warily, wondering if Mr Gold saw it too: the blood, the fighting, the scariness of it all. "She's Emma."

Mr Gold sat down on the stool on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. "I want to tell you a story," he said. "Once, there was a boy. His father worked a lot and one day, there was a terrible accident and the boy's mother died." Mr Gold turned the mug in his hand. "The boy's father promised he would do anything to keep the boy safe, but he did it the wrong way."

Henry watched him over the rim of the mug. "What wrong way?" he asked quietly.

"He tried to hide all the dangerous things in the world from his boy." Mr Gold was staring down into his cup without drinking. "He thought that if the boy didn't know about them, then he would be safe." He looked up at Henry. "It doesn't work like that. Because he didn't know what they were, the dangerous things found the boy." His expression was stern. "The dangerous things will still be dangerous, even if people try to keep them from you. You know that, don't you?"

Henry nodded, holding his mug tightly. "Emma says she's keeping me safe," he said quietly. "She fights bad things, doesn't she? Like Batman?"

Mr Gold nodded, just a little bit. "And I'm here to make sure you're both kept as safe as I can," he said. "I won't tell you the bad things aren't there. You know it already. But I will do what I can to make sure they don't find you."

Henry poked his finger into the cream on his hot chocolate, then licked it clean. "You won't send us away?" he said finally.

"Not if I can help it," Mr Gold said.

Henry nodded once more, and drank his hot chocolate in silence. 

Mr Gold let him come through and sit on the sofa, even though he was starting to get tired. He propped his chin on his crossed arms on the arm of the sofa and waited and waited, and the only noise was the ticking of the clock.

He wasn't asleep, not really, when Mr Gold lifted a blanket down from the back of the sofa to cover him up.

Henry caught Mr Gold's sleeve to stop him. Not his arm. Definitely not his hand. 

He held the sleeve in his fingers and squinted at Mr Gold's hand. He didn't like touching people or people touching him, but the hand wasn't pushing or trying to hit him or make him do anything. He could see a strange scar in the middle of Mr Gold's palm: a pale, five-pointed star with a diamond in the middle, burned white into his hand like he had grabbed something hot in his palm. It wasn't even as big as a quarter.

"Mr Gold?" he murmured sleepily.

"Yes, Henry?"

Henry put out one fingertip and curiously traced the scar. It was raised, but smooth and old and healed up. Mr Gold's hand was shivering. "What happened to the boy?"

Mr Gold was quiet for a long time, then drew his hand back from the blanket and from Henry. "His father lost him," he said. His other hand smoothed the blanket over Henry gently, and Henry forgot what he was going to say as his eyes drooped closed. 

 

_______________________________________________

 

Emma closed the door quietly and made her way up the stairs.

The trip to the hospital hadn't been a total bust, but there wasn't much a sixteen year old girl could find out. She'd manage to find the boy and his mom, and even overheard some of what the woman was told by the doctors.

Something big and nasty had torn strips off the man, and that didn't sound like a home invasion of the human kind.

Mr Gold was waiting for her in the living room, reading a book by the light of a table lamp. He put his finger to his lips when he spotted her, and nodded towards the couch. Henry was curled up under a blanket, fast asleep.

"Kitchen?" Emma mouthed.

Gold nodded, rising, and followed her through.

"You're back late," he observed. "Problems at the graveyard?"

Emma poured herself a glass of milk. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she said. "There's something else, though. Something big with claws."

Gold frowned. "You saw it?"

Emma drained the glass and set it down, refilling it. "Nope," she said. "We were coming back from the sweep and saw an ambulance. Some guy had been torn to shreds in his own house, in front of his kid." She met his eyes. "Went to the hospital, and they're saying it looks like a home invasion by a knife-wielding maniac. Funny thing is there were no footprints and no sign of a break-in, and the wife didn't hear anyone."

Gold sat down on one of the stools. "So it could be something supernatural."

Emma nodded. "The kid looked scared to death," she said. "Not just seeing something bad. He knows what did this. I think he's seen it before." She set the glass back down. "It was something in his bedroom."

Gold tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the counter. "There is a precedence for the superstition of monsters under the bed," he said. "Maybe it's literally the case this time."

Emma nodded. She went to the sink and rinsed out the glass. "Do you think you could get anything out of the police records? Or do you want me to go for a look around?"

Gold hesitated. "I'll do what I can, but we may have to look after the Crime scene unit have finished their work."

Emma dried the glass and put it away. "So I have a break?" she said. "Feels kinda wrong, when there's a scared kid."

"Sometimes," Gold said, "we have to wait for the opportune moment." He was silent for a moment, then said, "You may wish to wake Henry. He wanted to be up when you came back. He was worrying again."

Emma kept her eyes on the cupboard. "Yeah," she said quietly. "He does that." She turned with a smile that was only a little forced. "I'll get him to bed." She paused halfway to the kitchen door. "He... didn't bother you, did he?"

"I can hold my own against a child," Gold replied with a brief, half-smile as he rose from the stool. "We talked over hot chocolate and he was asleep within forty minutes." He rested his hand on the counter. "He's a good boy, Miss Swan. Very bright."

Emma ducked her head. "I know," she said quietly, then hurried out of the kitchen to the living room. She was surprised that he'd gone to sleep in front of Gold. He usually hid himself under the blankets. It was a habit picked up from years spent in homes, when there was always a light on so the night carer could keep a watch on them. 

She wasn't sure if she was pleased or worried that he was feeling safe enough to sleep in front of Gold. 

It was true their lives were a little more stable, because of Gold, but that was because he was her Watcher. If she wasn't a Slayer, if she fell, she didn't know what would happen to Henry. That was why she fought as hard as she did. She had to make sure he was safe.

She sat down on the edge of the couch. "Henry," she murmured, loud enough for him to hear her. She touched his head gently, carefully. He flinched as he always did. "Henry, it's me."

He stirred sleepily, opening his eyes, brief panic giving way to relief. "You're back?" he murmured.

"I am," she said, stroking his hair gently. "You should be in bed."

"Mm."

She shook her head with a tired smile. He wasn't as small as he used to be, but she was a Slayer and she had strength enough to lift him up on her hip as she had when he was tiny. He nestled closer, his head on her shoulder, barely even stirring as she carried him back to his room.

His blankets were already pushed back, and she laid him down in the hollow he had left, drawing the covers back over him. He curled up like a hedgehog, unconsciously reaching out and dragging the blanket over his head.

Emma tucked the blankets around him. "Sleep well," she whispered, though she glanced under the bed and into the wardrobe before she slipped out of the room.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

The story was all over the newspaper.

Mary Margaret managed to tear herself off David Nolan's face for long enough to come and ask about it all. No names were mentioned in the report, but Storybrooke wasn't exactly a big town and whispers happened. 

"So is it definitely..." She looked around and whispered, "Demon?"

Emma was poking at the bowl of noodles. "Sounds like it," she admitted. "Gold's got someone in the hospital and they had a look at the records. Parallel cuts that looked like huge claw marks. Police are still saying it's some kind of weird ceremonial knife."

"How could they mistake it?" Jeff asked in a low voice, looking nauseous. "Didn't they see his face?"

"What's left of it," Emma said. "He'll live, but they won't be able to do anything about the scars."

"Does Mr Gold have any ideas about what it is?"

"He said something about a monster under the bed," she said.

"The boogeyman?" Mary Margaret said in disbelief. "You're not serious."

"Vampires, sea serpents, demons are all okay," Jeff said with a snort, "but you have trouble with the boogeyman?"

"It's just... kid stuff," Mary Margaret said.

Emma shook her head. "Gold was saying something about that this morning," she said. "Kids sometimes see things that adults don't, because they've not learned to be cynical. Kids might see things that grown-ups just can't see anymore because grown-ups stop believing in monsters and magic and stuff."

"So the boogeyman is real?"

"The boogeyman could have always been a demon," Emma said. "Gold was up with his books all night. He said that almost every culture has a monster that shows up at night to scare kids into behaving. He said something about it..." She snapped her fingers, trying to remember. "Manifesting? Is that the right word?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "So if a kid believes in the monster under the bed, it can appear?"

"It sounds like it."

"But it looks like he's branching out from just scaring the kids into going to sleep," Jeff said. "How many people can say their parents were turned into confetti by the boogeyman?"

"That's why Gold's not sure," Emma admitted. "Unless this is something pretending to be the boogeyman. Could be a demon just playing with the image or it could just be that it got bored with messing with kids' minds."

"D'you think we need to check under our beds?" he asked. "I mean, if there's some creepy monster attacking people?"

Emma rolled her eyes. 

"You're not a kid, Jeff."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but I believe in all the creepy stuff that kids believe in."

"Don't they say that if you hide your head under the blanket, the boogeyman won't get you?" Mary Margaret said. "You could try that."

Emma pushed aside her bowl. "But if this is the boogeyman and he's branching out, maybe even that won't work anymore," she said.

Jeff looked green in the face. "Way to be comforting," he complained. 

 

________________________________________

 

Henry stood by the classroom door, watching the other kids running out into the playground. He saw the person he was looking for retreat under the tree on the far side of the playground, sitting on the bench.

Nicky Ingwer didn't have many friends.

He was even quieter than Henry was, and some of the girls called him names, because his mom cut his hair and bought his clothes at the thrift stores. Henry wasn't good at making friends, but he knew what it was like to be called names because of what he wore and how he looked. Things were better since Mr Gold took them in. He made sure they had clothes and food and haircuts.

It was strange to him that someone with a mom and dad would have to be dressed from a thrift store.

He made his way across the playground towards Nicky.

Mr Gold had spoken to him while Emma was having a shower in the morning. He was very serious and said that bad things were happening to the Ingwer family. They needed to know, in case it was something Emma could stop, but Nicky was the one who knew, and they couldn't ask Nicky.

It made Henry's belly knot up, because he didn't like talking to strangers, but if there was something bad, he could be brave to be a hero like Emma. If she was being like Batman, he could be like Robin.

Nicky looked up at him when he got close.

"Hi," Henry said.

"What do you want?" Nicky said. His face was pale and he had big shadows under his eyes. His eyes were red too, like he had been crying.

Henry hesitated. If someone had wanted to be his friend, he knew what they could have done to make him like them. He had a packet of chips in his bag. He was keeping them to put in the box under his bed, but someone sharing food wasn't always bad.

"Do you want some chips?" he offered. "I have some."

Nicky stared at him. "Why?"

Henry shrugged, taking off his bag and pulling out the bag of chips. It felt weird, not to be keeping them to himself. "Because chips are good?" he suggested. "We can share, if you want."

Nicky looked at the chips like he was real hungry, and Henry realised that he'd never seen Nicky eat anything at recess before. If his mom had to buy clothes cheap, maybe they didn't have much food either.

He sat down on the bench beside Nicky, who looked at him like he expected something bad to happen, and opened the chips, holding out the bag. Nicky took one, just one, and nibbled on it, still watching Henry.

Henry ate one as well. "I heard about your dad," he said.

Nicky looked away from him. "He's not my dad," he whispered. "He's my mom's husband."

"Oh." Henry offered him another chip. "Sorry. I didn't know. Sorry he got hurt."

Nicky looked at him. "Why?"

Henry frowned, confused. "Because being hurt is bad."

"But why are you sorry?" Nicky said. "You don't know him."

Henry shrugged, turning a chip in his hand. "I guess I don't," he said. "Are you sad?"

Nicky looked at him warily. "What?"

"Because he's hurt? Are you sad?"

Nicky broke the chip in his hands into pieces and poked them around the middle of his palm. "I'm sad for my mom," he said quietly. "She likes him a lot. She thinks he's nice."

Henry looked down into his chip packet. 

He remembered one of the boys in one of the homes they had been in, Anton. He looked like Nicky did now. He'd never said much, but Henry remembered hearing their carer talking to him when he had nightmares and woke everyone up. No one asked him about them, but Anton had whispered about the shadowman in the night.

"Did something bad come into your room?" he asked quietly. Nicky was shaking, and he was crying, but Henry knew he had to be brave and keep asking. "Did it try to hurt you?"

"He said he would hurt my mom," Nicky whispered. "He said he would if I didn't do what I was told." He looked at Henry pleadingly. "He said he'd hurt my mom and I wished and wished and wished he would stop, and then it came. It stopped him."

Henry stared at him. 

Nicky was crying hard. "I didn't think it would hurt him. I told it to go away. I told it I was all right. That I would sleep. But it hurt him. It hurt him because it knew I couldn't sleep cos I wanted him to stop."

Henry nodded. He knew what it was like to want people to stop. The foster homes weren't all bad, but in some of them, there were people who would touch when you didn't want them to, and not leave you alone, and if that person was your mom's husband and was in your house and your mom liked him...

"You have to tell your mom," he whispered. "You have to tell."

Nicky shook his head desperately. "He'll hurt her."

"He can't hurt her," Henry said. "He's in the hospital. He can't hurt her, and he can't hurt you. If you tell your mom, the police can stop him hurting her."

Nicky was shaking. "But what if they say it's my fault? What if they arrest me because the boogeyman hurt him?"

"Bad things happen to bad people," Henry said with certainty. "If you tell them, they'll understand." He hesitated, then offered Nicky his hand. He didn't touch him. It wasn't right to touch someone without permission. "We can go and ask the teacher to call your mom. I can stay with you and you can tell her."

Nicky stared at his hand, then at him. "Why are you helping me?" he whispered. 

"Because," Henry said quietly, "I have a sister. You don't." He smiled uncertainly. "We could be friends, if you want."

Nicky carefully put his hand in Henry's. "Friends," he said.

 

___________________________________________________

 

Gold let Henry run upstairs. 

He had picked the boy up from school, after a phone call from the head mistress. Ava Ingwer, the wife of the demon's victim, was there too with her son, and Henry was sitting with the boy.

The Head Mistress had asked in quiet, calm tones if Henry had any history of abuse, while he had been in care. Gold had felt like ice had settled in his belly, but stated that no, he did not believe so, because Emma would never have let anyone near enough to her brother to touch him. There was nothing in his records that indicated anything other than childish bullying within the homes.

Henry hadn't said much in the car on the way home until Gold asked if the boy had seen anything in his room. Henry just looked at him and said quietly, "The boogeyman saved him."

He didn't say anything more, but in the context of the head mistress's inquiries, Gold didn't need to ask.

Gold went into the shop for a moment, and fetched some of his books, before going up the stairs. Henry's shoes were neatly put on the shoerack by door and his coat was hanging up. He had retreated to his bedroom, but the door was slightly ajar.

Gold approached and tapped lightly on the door. "Henry?"

The door was opened a little more and Henry looked out. He looked uncertain. "Did I do it wrong?" he asked nervously. "Telling his mom?"

"Not at all," Gold said gently. "You did the right thing."

Henry fidgeted. "Will Emma have to kill it? The boogeyman?"

"I don't know," Gold admitted. "I'll tell her what we know, and we can make a decision from there. I don't think it will hurt anyone else in that house, though."

Henry nodded. "I think it just wanted Nicky to be able to sleep like a normal kid," he said quietly. "It got so mad because Mr Ingwer woke him up and gave him bad dreams." He looked up at Gold anxiously. "They won't take Nicky away will they? Because of what it did?"

Gold shook his head. "It wasn't his fault," he replied. "Nothing that happened in that room was his fault."

The relief on Henry's face was heartbreaking. He reached out and grabbed Gold's hand. "Don't let Emma kill it," he said. "It was just trying to help."

Gold looked down at the boy's hand, and gently squeezed it. "I'll explain everything," he said. "Don't worry."

 

__________________________________________________

 

Henry looked happy.

Emma was pleased, but confused by it all.

Two days ago, when she came home from school, Gold took her to one side and told her quietly what had happened to the man in the ambulance and why. He had taken a step back at the look on her face. If Ingver had been up and walking, she would have made damned sure that he was back in the hospital. She knew enough ways to hurt a man, without even breaking a sweat.

She’d never met the boogeyman, at least not that she could remember, but if it was willing to hurt a man who was hurting a kid, it had earned a free pass in her book. Especially a kid who just wanted a dad and ended up with a monster.

But now, it turned out, he had Henry too.

They were meeting Nicky Ingwer and his mother at the park.

“I brought some of my candy,” Henry informed her, as they headed through the gates and in the directions of the play area. 

“You’re sharing your candy?” Emma said, surprised. 

Henry beamed at her. “He’s my friend. He can share.”

Emma shook her head, as he tugged her onwards. They circled around the fountain and the still-crispy grass. She’d heard all about the incineration of the vampire holiday group, but still could hardly believe they set the park on fire to stop them.

“There they are!” he said, waving ahead.

A woman was standing near the monkey bars, watching a dark-haired boy climbing on them, and she turned at Henry’s voice. She was thin, pale, with tired, drawn expression that said she’d not been getting much sleep. Her husband had been arrested in his hospital bed, but it had to be hard, finding out what had been done to her child. 

Henry rushed by her to the bars, where the boy waved shyly at him.

Emma watched Henry climbing for a moment, then turned to the women. “Hi.”

“Hello,” the woman said. She was young to have a kid Nicky’s age. “I’m Ava Tillman.”

She’d dropped her husband’s name.

Emma didn’t blame her.

“I’m Emma,” she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. “That’s Henry.”

They both looked up at the boys on the climbing frame. They were huddled together, sharing a packet of candy furtively.

“You’ve got a brave brother,” Ava said quietly. “He saved my son.”

Emma smiled sadly, proudly, at Henry. “I know.” She looked at Ava. “I just wish he hadn’t had to.”

Ava lowered her head, nodding.

Emma wasn’t good with people. People or emotions. But she put out her hand and touched Ava’s shoulder carefully. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said and the woman looked at her, and smiled a sad smile, and Emma felt that maybe, she had helped a little too.


	7. From Behind

The girl ran.

Her shirt was torn and she had lost a shoe, and she ran.

It wasn't a good area of town to be lost in. There were warehouses and storage units, towering, grim, and unwelcoming. Most of them didn't even have a night guard. 

The streets surrounding them were dark, the only pools of light cast by security lights that flicked on as she ran by, then faded back into darkness. It was quiet, quiet enough for her to hear the footsteps that were following her. Heavy footsteps. The footsteps of a man.

She knew why the man was coming after her.

She knew what he wanted and it terrified her.

An alley opened up on the right between two buildings, and she fled inwards, desperately searching for a hiding place. Crates were stacked high on all sides, and she eased her way between them, pressing back into the shadows. Her hand pulled her ragged shirt closed over her chest and she held her breath, trembling, hoping he would pass by.

The footfalls slowed.

She heard a can rattle, knocked by a foot. 

A small, frightened whimper escaped her. 

He was in the alley.

She pressed her hands together over her chest, slamming back against the wall as he was silhouetted against her only escape route. There was a knife in his hand and she could see the bloodstain on his shirt.

"Please," she implored. "Please don't hurt me. I-I thought we were friends, David..."

David Nolan tilted his head, looking at her. "I thought you were human, Jack," he said. He closed the space between them and pulled her hard into his arms. "Now feed."

She shook her head. "Can't."

"Can," he said, lowering his head and kissing her. The girl whimpered again, softly, and she tried to keep from reaching for him, from taking, from feeding, but the hunger was too strong and he was too young and too fresh.

In his hand, the knife flashed, and the creature who had once looked like a girl screamed.

 

________________________________________________

 

 

"Look who's gracing us with her presence!" Jeff swept off his hat and whirled it in an extravagant bow. "Descending from on high to mingle with the commoners."

Mary Margaret pulled a face. "Quit it, Jeff."

Emma snickered, kicking out a chair for Mary Margaret. "You've got to admit you've been a little caught up with... what's the technical term, Jeff?"

Jeff smirked. "Sucking of face? Eating of mouth? Making out? Smooching?"

Mary Margaret's cheeks were red as she dropped down into the seat. "So I have a boyfriend," she mumbled, setting her tray down. "It's not like it's a big deal."

"No, it's not," Emma agreed, picking another chip out of her packet. "But since we hardly ever see you because of his highness, we do feel a little bit neglected."

"Abandoned, even," Jeff said with a convincing moan of despair. "Like a pair of kids taken into the woods with nothing but bread to leave as a trail to get home."

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged bemused looks.

"As metaphors go," Emma said, "that's overreaching a bit."

He nodded to his tray. "The gingerbread inspired me," he said. He broke it into pieces, offering each of them a chunk of the cake. "So, Mary Margaret. Your taller, more athletic half. Where would he be? Being sporty and excessively manly?"

Mary Margaret picked at the gingerbread. "He's sick," she said. "He texted me this morning."

"What's up?" Emma asked, frowning. "He's not the kind to get sick."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "He didn't say. He was out last night. Working, he said."

"Working, sportsman, boyfriend," Jeff said with a roll of his eyes. "Is there anything he can't do?"

Emma raised a hand. "Vampire slaying?"

"Don't say that!" Jeff exclaimed. "He'll hone in on that as well!"

Mary Margaret socked him on the arm. "Why don't you like him?"

Jeff shrugged. "I have a survival instinct that tells me to avoid all jocks," he said. "Call it years of experience."

"He's not a jock!"

"Football player," Jeff said. "That equals jock. I'm amazed he's not dating a cheerleader."

"You mean like Daniel?" Emma said with a snicker. Regina's whole attitude had turned full circle ever since she started seeing Daniel. Sometimes, she even actually smiled at them, which always made Jeff check himself to make sure his fly wasn't undone or that there wasn't a stain on his shirt or something.

Mary Margaret rose, waving. "Lance! Hey! Lance!"

Lance, one of the other football players, had just entered the cafeteria. He waved in greeting, fetching his tray, then heading over to join them, despite Jeff's complaints. He dragged a chair over from another table, sitting down.

"How's it going?"

"Pretty good," she replied. "Listen, have you heard from David? He said he was sick, but I didn't get any details."

Lance stirred up his couscous. "Last I heard, he was out with Jack last night," he said.

"Jack? Jacklyn Lewis?" Jeff said.

"Should we know her?" Emma asked.

Mary Margaret's expression was suddenly unreadable. "She's a cheerleader."

Emma and Jeff glanced at each other.

"David was out with Jack?" Emma said cautiously. "I thought he was working?"

Lance was wolfing down his food, and shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Jack said she'd been having trouble with trig. David offered to help her."

Emma glanced at Mary Margaret, who was looking broodingly at her gingerbread. "Right," she said. "Help. With trig."

"I need to go to the bathroom," Mary Margaret said abruptly, rising and walking away.

Lance watched her go. "What was that about?" he asked. 

"Oh, nothing," Jeff said, spinning his hat in his hands. "Good old Prince Charming is just showing he's as bad as the rest of you by lying to his girlfriend about where he was last night." He shook his head gravely. "If it was me, I would have said tutoring instead of work."

Lance gawped at him. "You think David..." He burst out laughing. "Have you met Jack? Unless David has some evil twin we don't know about who likes girls who are as blatant as she is, he was just tutoring her."

Emma pushed her chair back. "Still," she said. "Lying to your girlfriend about being with another girl isn't good boyfriend behaviour."

"You go kick his ass, Emma!" Jeff said, looking far too pleased with the idea.

She gave him a look. "I'm going to find Mary Margaret," she said. "David... he can wait for what's coming to him."

Lance watched her stalk off. "Tough lady," he said approvingly. "David better watch his back."

Jeff leaned back in his chair with a smug smile. "You have no idea."

 

___________________________________________

 

Mary Margaret scooped up handfuls of cold water and dashed them on her face.

It wasn't helping.

She wasn't sure whether she was more angry or upset or embarrassed. It felt like a pretty even mix of all three. It was bad enough to find out that David had been lying to her, but to find out in front of Emma and Jeff.

It wasn't that they would laugh or tease her or joke about it to her face.

It was the fact that she had been so sure David was a nice guy, and now, he was out with cheerleaders when he told her he was working. She didn't like to be lied to, especially not if it was something innocent. 

"Are you okay?"

Mary Margaret spun around, startled. 

Regina had just emerged from one of the cubicles. 

"I-I didn't know you were in here," Mary Margaret said turning back to the sink and grabbing a paper towel to dry her face. She looked up at Regina's reflection. "Why were you in here?"

"Changing," Regina said, holding up her uniform. "Mom always makes sure I look presentable before I leave the house, and I'm going out with Daniel after fifth period." 

A brief smile crossed Mary Margaret's lips. "How's that going?"

She saw Regina, Queen of the Cheerleaders, blush like a kid. "Great," she said, her smile audible in her voice. "Really great. Daniel is the sweetest guy."

Mary Margaret nodded. "He seems like that."

Regina approached her and hesitantly touched her shoulder. "Are you okay? You... you don't seem okay?"

Mary Margaret had never really understood the phrase 'the straw that broke the camel's back', but right in that moment, she got it. Everything stacked on top of each other and it just took someone's sympathy to make her eyes water and her throat clench up.

"No," she whispered. "I think David was seeing Jack Lewis."

"Jack?" Regina stared at her. "You mean Jacked Up Jackie?"

Mary Margaret laughed shakily. "Is that what you call her?"

Regina nodded, pulling a face. "There's only so much you can show when you're a cheerleader in a lift," she said. "Jack liked to make sure there was much more than there should have been." She hesitated, then reached out and awkwardly patted Mary Margaret on the arm. "She hits on all the players at least once. Asking for tutoring, help with a flat tyre, pet-walking. Anything. A guy would have to be really dumb to fall for that trick."

It was strange that Regina of all people could be reassuring.

They both turned as the door opened.

Emma looked between them. "You guys okay?"

Mary Margaret nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Fine. We're just talking about the problems of dating someone on the football team."

"She's about my height," Regina added helpfully. "Enthusiastic. Perky. A pain in everyone's ass."

Emma looked relieved, and Mary Margaret knew it was because she didn't have to do the supportive girlfriend thing. Emma was a lot of things, but comforting people who were upset didn't rank high up her skill set.

"Wanna get back to food before Lance and Jeff steal it all?" Emma offered. "I know Jeff was eyeing my hotdog."

"Sure," Mary Margaret said with a smile. "You want to join us, Regina?"

Regina shook her head with a grin. "I have someone else waiting," she said. "I'll see you later."

Mary Margaret looped her arm through Emma's. "Let's go."

 

_______________________________________________

 

There were pictures arranged on the table of Gold's office in the back of the shop.

Emma looked over them.

"That's what the other one looked like," she said.

The pictures were of a demon. It was a smaller version of the Lover she had found dying in an alley a few weeks earlier, but this one had been found in the packing district, just as dead, in a pool of its own blood. 

Mr Gold had contacts who had slipped him the images before the body was disposed of. The city council didn't seem to blink twice when it came down to demon corpses. Emma knew it concerned him that such things were not seen as suspicious. It spoke of corruption somewhere higher up. 

"So we have a vigilante killing these demons while they feed," Gold said, turning one of the pictures. "From what I've heard, there haven't been any patients with mysterious chest wounds appearing at the hospitals."

Emma pulled a face. "So what? This vigilante lets them feed on him? Or her? And then kills them when they're chowing down?"

Gold looked up at her, startled. "That could be an explanation," he admitted.

"So whoever it is knows how to find these things," she said. "They know to go in armed, and they know how to kill them." She looked at him suspiciously. "You don't think there's another Slayer in town?"

"Impossible," Gold said. "There is only ever one." He tapped the image. "It could be a bounty hunter. There's a blackmarket for demon body parts for use in dark magic. It's possible that the Lover's horn might be useful in some way."

Emma turned away from the images, feeling sick. "Yeah," she said. "Dark magic. That's something I don't wanna know about." She waved a hand over her shoulder. "You look into that. I'm going to go on patrol."

"Do we have any likely risers?" Gold asked.

Emma shook her head. "No, but if I don't look, I won't find this vigilante. And I need to run over and check on David for Mary Margaret. He's been off school, but she's stuck on Church activity with her dad and can't go and see him."

"How very loyal of you," Gold said with a chuckle. "Protecting the interests of your friends?"

Emma looked at him. "And he was my main suspect when these things showed up before," she said. "I still don't believe in coincidences."

"You have a very suspicious mind, Miss Swan."

Emma shrugged. "Better safe than sorry," she said, pulling on her jacket. "If Henry asks, I've gone to see Mary Margaret because her boyfriend is being a jerk."

She only knew where David Nolan's house was because Mary Margaret had mentioned in passing that he lived on the edge of town. It took a few tries before she reached the right door, which was opened a crack by David himself.

The house was a small one, and all the curtains were drawn, as if to keep the night out. It was quiet too: no music or TV noise in the background. 

He looked pale, which was good for the actually-sick argument, and was wearing a t-shirt over jogging pants. "Emma?"

She nodded. "Mary Margaret asked me to come by and make sure you're okay," she said, putting her hand on the door, pushing it a little wider, enough to see him from head to toe. "Can I come in?"

He must have braced his foot against the bottom of the door, keeping her from seeing any further into the house. "That's not a good idea," he said. "I'm not feeling too great. I wouldn't want you to get sick too."

Emma nodded. "Sick," she said, her eyes flicking over his neck. "Right."

Sick didn't usually mean hickeys.

David watched her guardedly. "Is something wrong?"

She shoved her hands in her pockets, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Just wondering how work involves hanging out with a cheerleader," she said, watching his face, and she saw the flicker of... something in his eyes. It wasn't guilt, but it wasn't confusion either.

"I told Mary Margaret the truth," he said. "I had to work. I just didn't mention what the work was. I didn't lie."

"Oh, I know this one," Emma said with a snort. "Lying by omission. I heard that in CSI." She leaned closer to him. "If I find out you've been cheating on her or doing anything behind her back that'll hurt her, believe me when I say you'll regret it."

He stared back at her. "I don't doubt it," he said, "but I would never hurt her."

Emma narrowed her eyes at her. "You better not." She stepped back. "See you at school."

She turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark of the streets.

David watched her go, then closed the door carefully and retreated back into the house. All around him, weapons were hung on the walls: swords, daggers, crossbows, blades of all shapes and sizes. He approached one of the racks and lifted down a small dagger, looking at it.

It wouldn't help if people started looking too close.

 

_____________________________________________________

 

Mary Margaret was a calm, sweet, gentle person.

Jeff cupped his chin in his hands and watched her pummeling Emma's training punchbag. "So, you're not upset, huh?"

Mary Margaret punched the bag again, scowling.

David had come back to school that day, and while he did look pale and sick, she couldn't help noticing that he was wearing a higher collar than usual. 

She told Emma, who looked grim and said nothing, and it was enough to make her agitated. Especially when she hugged him and got a glimpse under the collar of a dark red mark that had totally not been left there by her.

They had headed to Gold's shop after school, and while Emma was helping Henry with his homework, and Gold was going through the newspapers for reports of strange and suspicious deaths, Mary Margaret was taking out her frustration on the punchbag.

"It seems," Gold said, pushing through the curtains from the workroom into the training room, "that we've had another attempted kill by another Lover."

"I wish they weren't called that," Mary Margaret said. "Love is meant to be a good thing. Not something that shishkebobs your heart."

"I don't know," Jeff said, sitting up on the weapon's chest. "Sounds like love to me."

"Youthful cynicism aside," Gold said, "the victim survived." He folded the paper. "It looks like she was cornered in the cemetery close to main street. She said a man approached her, asking for the time, and then tried to assault her. She said she thought he had a knife."

"So how do we know it was the demon?" Jeff said. "Could just be a human."

"We can't take the chance," Emma said as she entered the room. "We can spread out, do a sweep and find the thing."

"We're helping," Mary Margaret said at once.

"No," Emma said with a rueful smile. "You guys are bait."

Mary Margaret groaned. "Again?"

Emma shrugged. "We need to lure it out."

Mary Margaret was still complaining under her breath as they headed into the cemetery. She and Jeff were both armed with tasers and a whistle in case someone approached them, so Emma could find them.

"Think positive," Jeff said, before they broke off in different directions. "If you take this thing down, you've got one up on the Slayer."

"Positive," Mary Margaret echoed with a snort. "I'm a walking target."

"We're walking targets," he corrected, grinning. "Have fun!"

They all headed out in three directions. Mary Margaret held the taser tight in her hand, the whistle clenched between her teeth, as she walked the gravelled paths between the rows of graves and mausoleums. 

The cemetery was quiet, the only sound her footfalls and the wind whispering through the few trees here and there.

She wasn't sure when it changed, but all at once, she was aware of someone approaching her from behind. They weren't walking on the gravel. That was what made her heart race. They were walking on the grass, the soft sound only audible in the lull in the wind. They were trying to sneak up on her.

She flicked the taser the charge and felt the buzz of power in her hand. Her heart was pounding, and she turned down another path, feigning ignorance, but choosing the path that put the moonlight behind her. It cast the shadow of the man who was following her too. It had to be a man, too tall and broad for a woman.

The scream of a whistle broke through the air as a hand grasped her shoulder, and she spun around, firing the taser.

The whistle fell from her lips, and she watched the man fold to the ground, twitching.

"David?" 

She was still standing there, standing over him, when Emma and Jeff arrived.

"You have got to be joking," Emma groaned, poking him with her foot. "He's the demon after all?"

"He's not a demon," Mary Margaret said, staring. "He can't be."

"Because regular people sneak around cemeteries in the dead of night," Jeff said, then frowned. "Present company excluded."

Emma reached down and touched David's throat. "He's still alive," she said. "We should get him back to Gold. He'll know what to do."

"Take the demon back to the shop?" Jeff said. "Is that a good idea?"

"Gold has a cage," Emma said. "Best place for it." She bent and hoisted David over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "We need to be sure before we kill anything." She looked at Mary Margaret. "Are you okay?"

Mary Margaret was still holding the taser in her shaking hands. "No. Not really."

Jeff put an arm around her shoulder. "C'mon," he said. "We'll interrogate him. And if he's really a demon, we'll kill him for you." He smiled encouragingly. "That's what friends do."

From the shadows, dark eyes watched them walking away with their burden.

 

_______________________________________________

 

David's head was spinning. 

He was lying on something hard. It felt like concrete. His fingers tested the surface. Yes. Concrete. Not the cemetery grounds then. He remembered making his way through the cemetery after the shadowy figure. Not many people would be foolish enough to wander a cemetery at night, but a demon...

Then she had turned and he caught a glimpse of a familiar face before something hit him, and then...

And then, concrete floors.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep." A familiar voice too. 

He opened his eyes, squinting. He was lying on his back in what looked like a cage, with thick, sturdy iron bars. A quick glance told him it was in a basement, a couple of narrow windows visible at the top of the walls, and the only light was from a naked bulb that hung from the middle of the roof.

There were weapons on the wall, dozens of them, almost as many as he had himself.

And then, there was his captor.

Emma Swan was sitting on a backwards chair, her arms propped on the back, watching him through the bars. She was wearing a wifebeater, and the muscles in her arms told him just how he had got to where he was.

David struggled to sit up. "Where is this?" he asked.

"You don't get to ask the questions, buddy," she said. "Want to tell me what you were doing, sneaking around in a cemetery at night?"

David looked down at his shirt. There were burns. Taser, then? He could remember seeing a glimpse of Mary Margaret's face before it hit. Mary Margaret was in a cemetery, armed, at night. And Emma was there with her.

Something told him honesty was going to be the best policy.

"I was hunting a demon," he said.

Emma sat up sharply. "What?"

"I know it sounds weird," he said, holding up his hands, "but demons are real, and if the newspaper was right, there was a bad one hanging around in that area."

"Yeah," Emma murmured, "the Lover."

David stared at her. "You know about it?"

She rose from the chair and approached the cage. "You're the hunter who was killing them," she said. "Aren't you?"

David got up, watching her guardedly. "Why do you want to know?"

One side of her mouth curved up. "Because I've been looking for you," she said. "We thought we had a bounty hunter looking for demon carcasses for dark magic. You don't strike me as the black market kind."

David nodded grimly. "I kill them so they don't kill anyone else," he said. "One of these things killed my mother." He shifted from one foot to the other. "And you didn't strike me as the type to know about demons. Are you a hunter too?"

She laughed briefly. "Slayer," she said. "Close enough."

David stared at her. "The Slayer?" he said in disbelief. He'd heard of the infamous demon-killer, but only in whispers and legend. Slayers were the ultimate demon killers, and they were harder to find than unicorns. "You?"

She spread her hands in a mock bow. "In the flesh," she replied. She straightened up, looking at him intently. "How did you bait them?" she asked. "We didn't find many victims."

David hesitated, then pulled up his shirt, revealing two years worth of scars.

Emma swore, leaning closer. "How many?"

"Twenty-six, if you count the one playing cheerleader that I caught two nights ago," David replied, smoothing his shirt back down. He looked around the cage. "I'm guessing you were on the hunt too, and I walked straight into it?"

Emma nodded, withdrawing a key from her pocket. It was heavy and thick as his finger. "We knew something was hunting those demons," she said. "And that newspaper article let us know where to find the demon, so we just had to find it and the hunter." She unlocked the door with a crooked smile. "We just caught the wrong one."

"We?" David said, emerging from the cell. "There's more than one Slayer?"

Emma motioned for him to follow her. "Not exactly," she said, leading him through a door into a room that looked like an old-school covert ops room. 

Jeff was sitting on one of the chairs by a table, and Mary Margaret waved sheepishly from an armchair.

"You know the guys," Emma said. "They help me out sometimes. And taser their boyfriends in the cemetery."

Mary Margaret looked up at her. "He's okay?"

Emma nodded. "You're not dating a demon," she said, waving them towards each other. "The demon that was found the other night was Jack. David took her out." Mary Margaret reached up and clasped his hand. "And Jeff, you'll be happy to know that he's also a boy-slayer."

Jeff groaned, dropping his head forward onto the table.

"What happened with the demon?" David asked. "Did you see it tonight?"

Footsteps prevented anyone from answering him, and David turned around as a middle-aged man entered the room with a file in his hand.

"There was no demon tonight," he said, setting the file down. 

David looked askance at Emma.

"Oh," she said. "Right. Gold. My watcher."

Gold nodded in greeting. "These are the medical records of the victim from the paper." He flipped open the file, revealing blank pages. He looked up at David. "It looks like you have made some enemies. Someone wanted to lure you there."

"Or Emma," Jeff said, lifting his head.

Emma shook her head. "I'm not known for slaying that kind of demon," she said. She looked up at David. "Who did you piss off?"

"Well, if any of these demons had a nest-sire or batchmates, I'd say a lot..."

"Congratulations," Mary Margaret said with a lop-sided smile. "You've just signed up for a lifetime of being hunted by demons. What are you going to do next?"

He looked down at her. "Right now? I'm thinking a night off with my girlfriend." Mary Margaret beamed at him and he was tempted to kiss her. Instead, he turned to Emma. "You know where I live, Emma. You can come by and raid the weapons cache any time."

"Cool," Emma said, sprawling into Mary Margaret's vacated chair. "We done for the night, Gold?"

Gold looked between them and nodded. "For now."

 

______________________________________

 

The office was only lit by a table lamp.

It was quiet, but for the tick of the clock on the cabinet by the wall.

"You say your hunting team were unable to corner him?" The voice came from the high-backed chair, the owner of which was looking out of the window. "I was given to believe he walked into the trap of his own free will."

"There were others." A slight woman was standing on the opposite side of the desk. "We did not anticipate there would be more than one."

"And now, that particular troublemaker has been introduced to the Slayer." The man in the chair drummed his fingers on the desk. "Well. That is unfortunate. We will simply have to be more discreet."

"Another was slain two nights ago, sir."

"I know." The man rose, his features lost in the shadows, and approached the window. "She was young. Foolish." He shook his head, parting the blinds with his fingertips. "No matter. There are many more where that one came from." He waved a hand. "Leave me."

The woman bowed. "Yes, sir." She retreated from the room, closing the door behind her. She stood for a moment, trembling, and then made her way back out into the safety of the night.


	8. Data Error

The sky was overcast.

It was the perfect night for crime to go unnoticed.

The powergrid box on the wall was open, and two cables were connected to it, linking it to a laptop. The owner of the laptop was sitting against the wall, his eyes fixed on the screen, and his fingers danced across the keyboard.

"Second level security grid down," he reported. "You have ten minutes before the system resets."

"We only need five." Another man was standing nearby, hidden in the shadows. He was dressed entirely in black, and was looking up at the building. He touched a fingertip to his ear. "You're clear to go."

The man at the computer looked up. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and they were stealing something that was worth a lot more than they were paying him for. He waited until he knew the second thief would be within the building. 

"I think we should renegotiate terms," he said.

The man turned and looked at him. He was young, arrogant, and in another time, he would have been dashing. "Is that so, friend?" he asked, smiling. "You could have picked a better time."

"I think I picked the perfect time," the hacker said. "All I have to do is press a button and the alarms will go back on."

The thief known as the Pirate narrowed his eyes, still smiling. "You think you would have time to hit the button before I killed you?"

The hacker blanched. "You wouldn't."

The smile was like something from a horror film, and left no doubt that the man was serious. "Try me," he said.

The hacker pressed back against the wall.

"Changed your mind, friend?" 

The hacker nodded, lowering his hands from the computer.

The Pirate looked back up at the wall again, then smiled, touching a fingertip to his earpiece. "Good girl," he said. "We'll be waiting below."

The hacker closed up his computer, disconnecting it from the power grid. "W-we're done, right?" he said, shoving the computer back in its case. "You got what you were looking for? Our business is done?"

The Pirate turned his head slightly to look at him. "Not quite, Claude," he said. "You were trying to double-cross us."

"I didn't!"

"True, true..." He moved so suddenly and so fast that Claude didn't even have time to scream as he was slammed back against the wall, the Pirate's hand pressing over his mouth. The Pirate gazed at him. "But you still thought about it, and when my lady is working, I don't want her in any danger, even the threat of it."

He lifted his other arm and Claude started struggling in earnest.

Where there should have been a hand, there was a gleaming metal hook, sharp as a blade.

"Now," the Pirate said, studying the hook thoughtfully. "I could let you go." He looked back at Claude with a shark's smile. "You did your job after all. But I feel a lesson needs to be learned, and I know for a fact that my lady is always hungry after she works."

Claude fought against his grip, but it had as much affect as punching a sack of wet cement. 

The hook trailed down Claude's sweat-streaked cheek in mock-affection. "People knew you were working with me, you know," the Pirate said. "I think it'll be a cautionary tale if they see what became of you when you crossed me."

Claude bit at his hand. If he could just scream, someone could help...

"Killian?" A woman's voice. Claude almost sobbed in relief. The Pirate's accomplice. She would save him. "What are you doing?"

The Pirate's expression softened. "Ah, Millie," he said. "Claude, here, tried to renegotiate terms."

Claude's eyes slid sideways to the woman, and any plea he had hoped to direct at her died when he met her eyes. 

"A lesson?" she breathed eagerly. 

"And dinner, my dear," the Pirate replied. "After a job well done."

The woman moved closer and her eyes gleamed gold, and behind the Pirate's hand, Claude screamed and screamed, until the hook sank into his throat and his life burst out in bloody spurts.

The Pirate stepped back as the hacker fell, and watched as the woman latched onto the open wound, feeding greedily. "That's my girl," he murmured fondly.

 

_____________________________________________

 

"I hate tests."

Mary Margaret smiled crookedly. "Unfortunately, you have to do them."

Emma pulled a face. "I don't see why," she said. "Slayer. Kind of already got a full-time job. I don't need a diploma."

"Wouldn't it be kind of nice to have one, though?"

Emma grumbled, but grudgingly pulled a book towards her. She and Mary Margaret were on a free period, and instead of sitting out in the late autumn sun in the quad, Mary Margaret had dragged her into the library to study for the math test in the afternoon. 

She propped her chin in her hand a made a show of glaring studiously at the books.

Mary Margaret hardly noticed.

She was already bent over her own books, scribbling down equations and notes.

Turned out, she only noticed when Emma's head drooped forward onto the book and she started snoring quietly. Mary Margaret poked her urgently in the forehead. 

"Emma!"

Emma looked up blearily. "Wha?"

"You're meant to be studying! Not sleeping!"

Emma rubbed her face. "It's the math," she complained. "When am I ever gonna need to tell anyone what x equals?" She flipped the book shut. "Let me tell you, not a lot of vampires give a damn about the hypotenuse of a triangle."

Mary Margaret nodded reluctantly. "But it's still important," she said. "Even if you never use it, at least you can say you did it."

Emma scowled at the books.

She had barely opened it up again when footsteps clattered through the library.

"Mr Hatter! No running in the library!"

"Sorry, Miss French!" Jeff yelled back over his shoulder, as he careened around the shelves and threw himself down on his knees by the desk Mary Margaret and Emma were sitting at. He looked from one to the other. "Tell me you haven't heard already?"

"Today's test is cancelled?" Emma said hopefully.

Jeff's eyes widened. "What test?"

"Jeff!" Mary Margaret groaned. "Not you too?"

Jeff looked between them, then waved a hand. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Have either of you heard of the Spider?"

Emma glanced at Mary Margaret, then they both shook their heads.

"Isn't that one of the WWE Wrestlers?" Emma said. "The one with the black and red striped outfit?"

Jeff rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "How do you people get anything done?" he demanded. "No. He's not a wrestler. When the internet started up, he was one of the best hackers around."

"Ah," Emma said with a snort. "A living hypotenuse."

"Huh?"

Mary Margaret elbowed Emma. "Never mind," she said. "What about him? Is he visiting the school or something? A guest lecture?"

Jeff shook his head. "Even better," he said. "He's dead."

Mary Margaret put her pen down carefully. "Jeff, you know I like you, but sometimes, you scare me," she said. "What do you mean it's better because he's dead?"

Jeff propped his arms on the edge of the table. "He's been off-grid for years," he said. "The net got too fast for him and he dropped out. Turns out that he's not been as off-grid as people thought. He was working in crime, as a security hacker."

"Still not seeing the better," Emma said.

"He died," Jeff said dramatically, "in mysterious circumstances after a robbery."

Mary Margaret glanced at Emma, who shrugged helplessly. "Is this one of those conspiracy theory things?" Mary Margaret asked. 

"Maybe," Jeff said, beaming. "He was found with a single puncture wound in his neck, but there was hardly any blood. The spatters on the wall said he was killed where he was found, but apart from a few stains on the wall and ground, there was no blood."

Emma sat up a little straighter. "Maybe a vampire?"

"With just one hole?" Jeff said. 

"A vampire with a missing tooth?" Mary Margaret suggested.

"That would still leave bitemarks from the other teeth," Emma said. "Do you know what was being stolen?"

"I don't know," Jeff said. He sounded giddy. "Isn't it awesome?"

"Your definition of awesome and mine are very different," Emma said. "And anyway, it was Boston. Nothing to do with Storybrooke. Out of my jurisdiction."

Jeff's face fell. "You mean we won't even look into it?"

Emma shook her head. "It's probably not important."

 

______________________________________

 

"It's important we look into this man's death."

Emma groaned. "Gold, are you serious? It wasn't even in Storybrooke!"

"That's not the cause for concern," Gold said. He was standing by the workbench in the training room, sifting through pages. "We need to find out who he was working with, and more particularly, why they stole what they did."

Emma frowned. "Why do we care what they stole?"

He motioned for her to join him at the desk, and tapped one of the pages. "This gem," he said. "It was the only thing taken. It's hardly valuable compared to other items on display, which means it was taken for a reason."

"Let me guess," Emma said with a grimace. "Something of the creepy magic kind?"

Gold nodded. "It's called the Heart. It wouldn't be significant to a layman, but it has ties to dark magic, and I don't imagine it's a coincidence that the man who stole it ended up dead in an unnatural way."

"Jeff said that his blood was drained," she said, quietly, picking up the page and looking at the blood-red jewel. It was loosely heart-shaped and had dozens of facets that seemed to drink in the light.

"Yes."

Emma glanced at him in surprise. "That's it? Yes? No long-winded details?"

Gold said nothing, looking down at an image of the crime scene. She didn't even want to know how he got that kind of stuff. Looked like Jeff's source was right, though. There was a single wound in the throat, like someone had stuck a spike in the man's neck.

"Maybe it was a vampire with spike?"

Gold shook his head. "No," he murmured. "It had a curve. It was a hook."

Emma eyed him. "You seem pretty sure about that."

"I've seen wounds like this before," Gold said without looking at her. He shifted some of the pages around. "I'm fairly sure that there are vampires involved. One at least. Possibly two. If we're unlucky, they may still be running in a crew."

"A crew?" Emma echoed. "What are they? A street gang?"

He shook his head. "Quite literally. If it is who I think it is, he was once a pirate."

Emma stared at him, then burst out laughing. "Seriously? You're setting me up again Captain Hook?"

Gold looked at her and the laughter died in her throat. "He's a dangerous creature, Miss Swan," he said, his expression grim. "I hope it's not him, and if it is, I hope he's long gone, but given the power that has been growing around Storybrooke, you'll forgive me if I'm paranoid."

"But he's just a vampire, right?" Emma said. "Stake in the heart will kill him?"

Gold gathered the pages together. "Yes," he said finally. "He's just a vampire."

 

_________________________________________________________

 

"Really?" Mary Margaret stopped dead. "Oh, that doesn't sound good. He never freaks out."

Ahead of her, her father turned around impatiently. "Mary Margaret, I thought we agreed that when it's our day out, no cellphones."

Mary Margaret nodded, holding up a hand. "I have to go, Emma," she said. "I'll call you tonight, okay?" She nodded, humming. "Okay. I'll wait until Henry's in bed. Okay. Bye." She slid her cell back into her pocket. "Sorry, dad."

Her father smiled fondly. "I'm glad you've made friends, but sometimes, you just have to indulge a selfish old man."

Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose at him as she looped her arm through his. "You're my dad," she said as they continued through the mall. The place was full of the Saturday crowds, as usual. "You have a right to daughter-time."

"And does daughter-time have a particular theme today?" he asked. "Shoes? Clothes?"

"Dad-time," she replied, earning a pleased smile. "I do need a new pair of shoes too, though. Something warmer for winter. My old boots kind of... died." She looked at him hopefully. "Is that okay?"

He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "I think I can manage that for my girl," he said.

Mary Margaret leaned happily into him. She knew other people who had bigger families and both parents who weren't half as happy as she was with just her father and herself. They didn't have much, but they had enough to get by and that was good enough.

It took five stores before they found a pair of boots that Mary Margaret liked and that was within their budget. Not that her father would have said anything, but she'd seen him clipping coupons often enough. He didn't know she sort of lied about not liking the prettiest pair she had tried in the second shop. They couldn't afford them, not even if she pooled three months allowance. So fifth shop, twelfth pair of boots, and all was well. 

Mary Margaret hugged the box. "Thank you, dad."

"You make it sound like I didn't want you to have warm, dry feet," he said with a chuckle, as they got on the escalator to the food court. "Now, what do you want to eat? Will we go healthy or is it time for a burger?"

She smiled at him as they emerged into the food court. "Gentleman's choice," she said.

He glanced around the array of take-out bars. "You go and find a table," he said. "I'll pick us out something to eat."

Mary Margaret wove her way between the tables. It wasn't a big surprise that the food court was as busy as the rest of the mall. There weren't many places to shop in Storybrooke, and Saturdays were the day when everyone descended.

She caught sight of a familiar face sitting in one of the booths nearer the wall and hurried over towards her.

"Hey, Regina!"

Regina was finishing a tall glass of apple soda and turned, startled. "Mary Margaret?"

Mary Margaret smiled. "Shopping trip?" she asked, then nodded towards the empty seat at the other side of the booth and the dishes there. "Or were you meeting Daniel?"

Regina's face went white, as a woman's voice said close behind her, "Who's Daniel?"

Mary Margaret spun on the spot, her heart leaping in fright. The woman who stood there could have been Regina twenty years older. She was putting away her cellphone. "Um." She glanced at Regina, who stared back at her imploringly. "A friend from school. He... um... coaches Regina in lit."

The woman looked from Mary Margaret to Regina. "You didn't tell me you were having trouble with literature, dear," she said.

Regina's pale face flushed. "I didn't want to worry you, mom," she said, lowering her eyes. "It's just the modern American novel. Daniel helps."

"Well," Regina's mother said, smiling a red-lipped smile, "I'm glad to hear it." She reached down and picked up a black wool coat. "Have you finished your drink yet, dear? We can't loiter here all day, while you daydream. I have an important meeting this evening."

Regina scrambled for her own coat and purse.

Her mother turned her attention to Mary Margaret, giving her an appraising look. "You must be one of Regina's little friends," she said, offering a gloved hand. "I'm Cora Mills."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs Mills," Mary Margaret said, fighting the dumb urge to curtsey. The woman just seemed like the kind of person who you bowed to. She shyly shook Mrs Mills' hand. "I'm Mary Margaret."

"Ah, yes," she said. "Your parents are the Blanchards." She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I knew your mother, a long while ago."

It shouldn't have been a surprise, because Storybrooke wasn't exactly a big place, but Mary Margaret looked at her in astonishment. It wasn't just that they were from opposite ends of town, but they had nothing in common.

Mrs Mills drew on her coat and looked back at her daughter. "Come along, dear."

Regina nodded, slipping out of the booth. "I'll see you at school," she said, then hurried after her mother. 

Mary Margaret watched them go.

"You managed to snag a booth?" Her father was approaching with a tray. "You must have some magic in you, Mary Margaret."

She laughed, gathering up the dishes into stacks to make room for them. "I just stole it from someone I know," she said. "So, what's for lunch?"

 

_______________________________________________

 

Jeff hurried after Emma.

Late night patrols were his favourites, even if it was difficult to film them discreetly.

Emma had banned cameras on patrol, but if she didn't know they were there, she didn't need to worry about it. His parents had stopped checking in on his savings account when he was sixteen. They didn't know just how much he had spent on a buttoncam that would have made Bond green with envy.

Emma wasn't expecting any vampires, but Gold had her worried, so she was patrolling every night, in the cemeteries as well as places that she normally wouldn't have checked.

"Why here?" he whispered, as they skirted the edge of one of the museums.

She looked back at him. "Your guru was killed by thieves stealing magic artefacts from a museum. Gold says this place is full of magical artefacts. They might be coming here."

"Right." Jeff looked around warily. "The guy with the hook."

"Vampire," Emma murmured. "Not like I haven't killed one of those before."

"Yeah, but did you ever see Gold getting this edgy about one before?"

Emma hesitated, then shook her head. "He knows this one," she said with certainty. "I don't know how, and he's not saying, but he knows him."

"It might just be a thief," Jeff said, uncomfortable. It took a lot to get Gold worried, and if he was so worried that he wasn't telling Emma details, that didn't sound like it was something good.

Emma shook her head again. "You didn't see the look on his face, Jeff," she said. "He recognised the wounds. It can't be a coincidence, and all the blood being gone?" She looked up at the museum. "If they were coming for magical artefacts, this would be the next best place to hit on the Eastern seaboard."

“Did he say what was taken last time?” Jeff asked.

Emma nodded, as they ventured back onto the main street. “Some magic jewel,” she said. “The heart or something.”

Jeff stopped dead. “The heart?”

“You’ve heard of it?”

Jeff fidgeted under her stared. “I might have been doing some reading up on demons and magic and… stuff.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just in case we need something useful some time.”

“And…?”

“And?”

“The heart?”

He grimaced. “It might just be rumours, but there are stories that say that it was originally a diamond that was soaked in so much blood and magic it turned red.”

“Cute,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose, as they continued on their way. 

“It’s meant to have powers,” he added. “Especially the power of control.”

“So it’s like the boss-remote?” Emma snorted. “That’s…” She paused, holding up a hand, her eyes darting around the streets. “Stay put and if I’m not back in five, call 911.” She was gone before he could argue or follow, leaving him standing forlornly in the middle of the street.

Emma didn’t look back, running down the road. She was sure she’d seen someone running much faster than a human was meant to be able to run, and even if the alleys were empty, she knew someone was there.

A clatter on the fire escape above her made her look up.

A black-clad figure was scrambling up towards the roof of the museum.

Emma took a running jump, catching the rail at the edge of the fire escape and swinging herself up onto it. The figure above paused, looked down, then started to run faster. If that didn’t scream out suspicious, nothing did.

She could have taken the stairs, but Emma chose a shirt cut, swinging out over the side of the fire escape, and using the support rail to haul herself up, hand over hand. Her arms were screaming, but it was quicker than spiralling all the way up the stairs, and gave her a clear line of sight of the runaway.

She swung back onto the staircase when she reached the roof.

The shadowy figure had vanished over the edge a moment earlier, and she wasn’t about to take the chance of an ambush. She listened, and could hear footfalls retreating across the roof, so she cautiously swung herself over the ledge.

The black-clad figure was standing by the glass-domed ceiling, working loose a pane of glass.

“Hey!” Emma yelled.

The figure turned, then threw a mocking salute her way before squeezing through the narrow gap and dropping into the museum. If the security was working, the alarms should have started screaming, but nothing happened.

“Crap,” Emma groaned. She ran over to the open pane and looked down. There was a security guard sprawled on the floor, unconscious, and the shadowy figure was darting from case to case. Gold had warned her that the museum had to be protected. There was too much of value there to be left.

The gap in the frame was narrow, but she squeezed herself through and dropped to the floor. It wasn’t her most graceful landing and she tumbled across the smooth tiles, scrambling to her feet and looking around warily.

The burglar had vanished into the shadows.

None of the cases were open.

Long fingers of light were stretching in through the windows from the street lights outside, bisecting the room with gold and shadow. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, not even someone breathing.

Emma slowly turned in a circle. “I know you’re in here…” she breathed.

Something moved behind her and she whirled around, stake raised, to find the security guard on his feet, his hands up defensively.

“Don’t hurt me!”

Emma lowered her arm. “Sorry!” She searched his face. There was a bruise on his head, and his face was white. “Are you okay, sir? Can you call for the police? I saw a burglar bust in here. I can’t find them.”

“How did you…”

Emma waved a hand. “That doesn’t matter,” she said, looking around. “We have to find whoever broke in. I think they might be dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure they are,” the guard said.

It was the lisp of tongue on fangs that made her kick herself. “Seriously?” she exclaimed, ducking before the security guard’s fist could catch her. She went into a roll, scissoring out her legs and knocking the vampire’s legs from beneath him. 

He was up fast for such a big guy, and she circled, facing him, her stake in her hand.

“You’re not the night guard, huh?”

He grinned, all fangs. “I’m temping,” he said. “They really do hire anyone.” He lunged and got in a good blow before she deflected his arm with an upswing and brought around her other arm to elbow him hard in the face, knocking him reeling into one of the display cases. The glass shattered.

“So you’re a vampire who is a thief, who is temping as a guard?”

The vampire was struggling back to his feet. “And a diversion.”

Emma saw the flicker of movement reflected in one of the other cabinets and spun around to deflect a blow from the black-clad figure she had followed. This attacker was faster, leaner, and caught her in sharp blows to her ribs and head that drove her to her knees.

She managed to get back to her feet, using pedestals and pillars to dodge blows, but whoever it was all dressed in black, they knew how to fight. A hand caught a fistful of Emma’s hair, dragging her back when she tried to dodge a punch, and a knee to her belly folded her over, leaving her sprawled on the ground. 

Her stake had skittered from her hands, but the guard’s fall had knocked a ceremonial weapon of some kind out of the cabinet. She was spilled on her face, but her hand closed blindly on the weapon, and as the black-clad attacker bent in for the kill, Emma swung around and brought the heavy wooden club in an arcing blow that sent the thief hurtling across the room. They hit the glass-fronted wall-panels, shattering them, and dropped.

Emma was on her knees as the guard snarled and lunged at her.

She managed to shift her weight in time to toss him over her head, bringing him down with a crash on the broken glass.

“That hurt!” he howled, grabbing at her face with hooked fingers. 

Emma socked him square in the face. “Just wait,” she snarled, scrambling to her feet and darting across the floor to retrieve her stake. He was on his side and grabbed her ankle, yanking, and she fell, landing across the ceremonial club.

“A lady doesn’t punch people,” the guard growled, gripping both her legs and flipping her onto her back.

She brought the club down on his head, the blow glancing off as he struck at her arm. “I’m not a lady!” she hissed, struggling.

“You don’t say!” He was big and he was heavy and he pinned her flat. 

She could see the gleam of his eyes, feel the drool from his fangs, and she brought the ceremonial club down hard on the floor. It snapped like kindling and just as all the lights in the building blazed on and sirens started wailing, she brought her arm around over his back and stabbed down as hard as she could.

“Oh!” He choked, collapsing into dust over her.

Emma panted as she stumbled to her feet. 

The black-clad thief was gone, leaving nothing but a trail of broken glass behind them. 

Emma turned slowly on the spot, looking around at the mess and the complete lack of thief.

“Well, crap,” she said, wincing.

 

_____________________________________________________

 

Gold was torn between relief and alarm.

It was a relief to know that Emma had foiled the robbery at the museum, even at the expense getting arrested. She was held until the CCTV footage showed that she had done nothing but try and fight off the thieves. The dusting of the guard had been off-camera, mercifully, but the concern was that the thieves were still at large, and their target unknown.

The aspect that concerned him even more was that the Hatter boy had seen the culprits.

Briefly, while labouring under the illusion he was merely being paranoid, Gold thought that he was wrong in his suspicions. 

In the shadow of the museum, Jeff - and his hidden camera - had seen the black-clad thief emerge from the building. He had footage of her pulling off her silken mask and use it to wipe the blood from her painfully familiar face.

She hadn’t noticed Jeff, which was a blessing, given her reputation in recent times.

Instead, she limped off down the alley, one hand to her chest, and was met by a car, large, black, and shining. Another familiar face, this one brutally so, smiled from the window, and the thief scrambled into the back.

Where they went didn’t matter.

What mattered was that they were in town, they had encountered Emma, and she had lived to tell the tale. 

Jeff was the one to contact him as soon as the police showed up and Emma was arrested. He was the one to watch Henry and the house while Gold went to the station to collect her. 

By the time Slayer and Watcher returned, Jeff had hooked his camera up to Gold’s computer and saved the videos for them. He had even been obliging enough to save clear freeze-frames so they could see exactly who they were dealing with. 

Emma was exhausted and bruised, and understandably didn’t give a crap. All she wanted were some painkillers and a soft bed, and Gold wasn’t about to deny her that. He sent Jeff home and went through the videos frame by frame.

If they had come to town, it had to be for a very specific reason. 

Mystical objects fetched a high price on the black market, and the Pirate was notorious for dealing in them. He always had been, even before he had been turned. 

It would be easy enough to go and speak to the curators. Public access was notoriously lax in Storybrooke, and given that he was the biggest expert on occult and mystical objects in town, they would have no cause for complaint. 

Gold sat back in his seat, staring blankly at the computer screen.

Emma would have questions, when she woke.

Not least about the fact that Jeff still had a camera.

She would want to know about her assailants. Who they were. What they wanted. How he knew them. Gold looked at the image of the vampire who was once his wife, and didn’t know what he could or would tell her. 

 

__________________________________________

 

“This is a late hour to be calling.”

The Pirate grinned engagingly. “What can I say? I’m a night owl.”

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?” The subject of his attention was standing with his back to the Pirate, a bold move by any man, really. He had his hands folded behind his back and was looking out of the window. “I think leech is much more appropriate.”

“Tsk tsk.” The Pirate draped himself into one of the seats. They were in an office that spoke of wealth and respectability. He had been in plenty of those. Men with power always wanted more of the same. He lifted his feet and propped his boots on the desk. “Is that any way to speak to a businessman?”

“It’s the way to speak to a parasite,” the man by the window said without turning. “You broke into a city museum. What were you looking for?”

The Pirate scratched at his cheek thoughtfully with his hook. “Nothing in particular,” he said. “I was in town on business anyway, and we heard a tale of a little Slayer running around. We had to see if it was true.”

The man at the window breathed in and out slowly, as if mastering his temper. “And it is.”

“Feisty little lass, isn’t she?” The Pirate slouched down in the seat. “If I was looking to take the town, I’d want something to use against her. Something personal.”

“You speak out of turn, Pirate.”

The Pirate examined his ring-decked fingers. “Not if I have that something.”

For a moment, there was absolute silence. “Explain.”

The Pirate grinned at him. “There’s power in what gets left behind, old man. In some little part of the girl in question.” He slipped his hand into his inner pocket and withdrew a small envelope. “What’s it worth to you?”

The man - lost in shadows - looked at him hungrily. “What would you want?”

The Pirate shrugged with a lazy smile. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He held the envelope between two fingers. “Interested?”

The man by the window laughed, a quiet, ominous sound. “I think we can do business, Mr Jones.”


	9. Heart of Darkness

The taper glowed, the wick sparking as the candle took light.

There were twelve thick white candles at even points around a circle painted on the stone floor. It flickered and danced with gold. The walls were draped with fabrics and cloth, muffling any sound from the world beyond the small, private chamber. 

Two cloak-clad figures stepped into the circle, hoods drawn up and casting shadows across their faces.

"Kneel," the elder said quietly. 

The slighter figure obeyed, turning hands palm up.

"The essence of power," the elder figure intoned, "is sacrifice. Life is power. Sacrifice a life, and you will gain power. Never underestimate the power in blood."

"Life is sacrifice." It was an echo, a whisper. 

The standing figure extended a hand. It was lined with age, but still elegant, the nails deep red ovals that shone like drops of blood in the flickering candlelight. Long fingers spread over the centre of the circle, and power crackled in the air.

"Take a life," the cloaked woman said. "Take the power."

The kneeling figure's hand trembled, but she extended slender hands over the centre of the circle, over a barely breathing lamb. She didn’t touch it. She didn’t have to. But magic glowed around her hands and the lamb went still. 

Cora Mills pushed back the hood of her cloak and smiled approvingly down at her protégée. "Good girl," she said. "You've just taken your first steps into a bigger world."

On the floor, the kneeling girl lowered her face and in the shadow of her hood, Regina stared down at the motionless body of the lamb.

 

___________________________________________________

 

 

"Any plans?" Lance asked.

Daniel stepped into the steaming jets from the shower. "Should there be?"

Lance rolled his eyes expressively at David, who was one shower head further along. "You've been seeing this girl for a nice round two months," he said. "Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little things."

"Like monthiversaries," David said sagely. "Nothing quite like the ladies for remembering how long they've been dating."

"Speaking of..." Lance said, grinning at David.

David snorted, tossing a bottle of shower gel to the other boy. "We don't have to do anything like that," he said. 

"I thought you said you were going to the carnival," Daniel said, lips twitching as he scrubbed himself. "I'm pretty sure I heard you say something about bagging her a teddybear at the archery stand."

"Being a smartass is no one's friend," David said airily.

"Look at that!" Lance feigned shock, tossing the shower gel back to David. "Dost my eyes deceive me or are you blushing, Mr Nolan?"

"I think you got shower gel in your eyes," David retorted, rinsing off and grabbing his towel. He dried himself off, then padded out into the locker room, towel around his hips. He dug through his locker, pulling his shirt on.

Lance and Daniel followed moments later. 

"Do you think she'll be expecting something?" Daniel asked.

"Even if she's not," Lance said, giving his locker a kick to make the door open, "get her something pretty anyway. Doesn't do any harm."

David glanced at him. "How is it that you're still single, O Font of Girl-Knowledge?"

"Too busy advising you losers," Lance replied, laughing as he dressed. He punched David on the arm. "You know if you do anything to upset Mary Margaret again, I'll kick your ass."

"I thought you were my wingman," David said with a grin, as he shoved the towel in the locker.

"I'm her wingman," Lance corrected. "I give you advice so you don't screw up. All for her."

"What about Regina?" Daniel inquired, towelling his hair so it was sticking in all directions.

Lance looked him up and down. "Comb your hair," he said, "and get your good shirt on. She likes it when you dress up to match her."

Daniel grinned. "I know that," he said. "She coordinated our outfits when we went for dinner."

"How about getting her flowers? Chocolates?" David suggested.

"Yes," Lance said solemnly. "Let's all listen to Captain Imagination."

Daniel snickered as he pulled his shirt on. "What's your idea, genius? Apart from putting on clothes that she likes?"

Lance stared into middle distance, then slowly started to grin. He leaned closer to Daniel and whispered a suggestion.

Daniel's face broke into a smile. "I think she'd like that," he said.

"What?" David asked. "Like what?"

Lance pulled on his pants. "Not flowers or chocolates, that's for damn sure," he said. He patted David on the shoulder. "Don't worry. One day, you might have to worry about using your imagination, but right now, keep doing what you're doing. Mary Margaret'll take anything you throw at her."

"You make it sound like I'm a neanderthal with a rock," David complained, shaking his head with a crooked smile.

"Well, if the shoe fits," Lance said innocently, and blocked David's swat to his head with laugh. 

 

____________________________________________________

 

 

"Aren't there any demons I can kill?"

Mr Gold set down the quarterstaff and mopped at his brow with his handkerchief. "Everything has been quiet," he said, as Emma unbound her hands, and put away her training weapons. "There has been no vampire activity in some days, no undisturbed graves, no creatures roaming the streets."

"Maybe I should go on patrol," Emma insisted. "Just in case."

Gold's lips twitched. "I think I see what the matter is," he said. "I think there's something you want to avoid."

Emma kept her back to him, setting her short swords on the rack. "Don't know what you mean."

"Isn't tonight the night you are meant to be doing your girls' night with Miss Blanchard and your other friends?"

The Slayer turned on him, a murderous look in her eye. "I'm the Slayer," she said. "I have a sacred duty to go out and kill stuff."

"And avoid having your hair braided and talking about boys," Gold concluded.

Emma's hand tightened on the nearest weapon. "I don't do girl-talk."

"So you want me to give you an excuse not to go?" Her Watcher put his head to one side. "You could use any number: Henry wants to spend time with you, you don't feel well, you're exhausted from training, you don't want to."

Emma set the knife back down with a huff of frustration. "But Mary Margaret'll be disappointed," she said. "She'll do the face. You know the face. And then, there'll be the guilt, and I don't want the guilt."

"So unless I order you to stay, you'll feel obligated to go?"

Emma nodded hopefully. "Maybe those vampire burglars are still around," she said. "I should hunt them."

Gold's lips pressed together. "No," he said curtly. "If they are still around, they would be making their presence known." He waved her towards the door. "Just this once, run along and do what a teenage girl normally does. Henry's still at the Tillman house, and you don't need to worry about him being in trouble."

"But..."

"And I have plans."

Emma came up short, staring at him. "You do? What?"

Gold folded his hands on top of his cane. "What I do with my time is my business, dearie," he said. "And you have somewhere to be."

Emma groaned, stalking out of the door. He heard her thunder up the stairs to change, and the thump of her feet as she stomped back down. She was going enjoy the novelty of it all, he knew, even if she would deny it later.

He gave it five minutes after she left before venturing through and locking both front and back doors. For what he intended to do, he had no desire to be interrupted unexpectedly, by Slayer or child. 

All Watchers were trained in basic elements of magic, but only to warn them against the temptations and occasionally to intervene in more mystical battles.

One was always warned never to used magic for one's own need.

Gold was never a man to do as he was told.

He laid out the tools of the craft, and a map of the town, then fetched a small box from the safe in the shop. It didn't contain much of significance, only a golden ring. It was the sign of two of his three great failings. The first was when he failed to protect his wife. The second was when he was too weak to stake her before she arose. 

Now, though, it could serve a new purpose and find whether she was still near at hand. 

He lit the candles and opened the book to the relevant page for a seeking spell.

If his voice shook when he spoke, he ignored it.

 

________________________________________________________

 

 

"He's taking me riding!"

Emma downed another soda. "Is that... good?" she asked.

Regina beamed. "I love riding," she said. "I don't know how he found out about it."

Mary Margaret plumped down on the floor in front of the sofa with a bowl of chips. "His dad used to be a riding instructor," she said. "I bet he knows all about riding."

Emma couldn't help smirking. "I bet."

"Emma!" Regina exclaimed, blushing furiously.

Mary Margaret swatted Emma's knee. "Stop that!"

"What?" Emma said, grinning and snatching a handful of chips. "You asked me to come and do girl-talk. This is how I do it. Just because I don't go goo-goo eyes over some guys doesn't mean I don't get to tease you two about it."

Mary Margaret stuck out her tongue. They had taken over her living room. It wasn't big, but her father was out with a couple of friends from work, so there was more than enough room for three girls. She offered the bowl of chips to Regina. "Have you told your mom about him yet?"

Regina shook her head, a horrified look on her face. "She doesn't want me mixing with boys," she said. "I have to focus on school, on studying. She doesn't even like the cheerleading, but I'm not quitting it, not when I lead the squad."

"Good for you!" Emma said. "She shouldn't be able to push you around."

Regina's smile was only a little forced. "Someone should tell her that," she said. "She's all power suits and in charge and don't let yourself be walked all over." She took a handful of chips. "And she likes the witch stuff as well."

"Is that how you learned about it?" Mary Margaret asked.

Regina nodded. "I don't use it much now," she said. "It takes a lot out of you, if you try and do big things. Little things are okay." She pointed at her chin. "You can't even see the zit I had this morning."

"That's got to be useful," Emma said.

"Says the girl with the best skin in the group," Mary Margaret said. "Do you even moisturise?"

"Oh yeah," Emma snorted. "In the blood of demons and a sprinkling of dusted vampire. It closes up the pores like you wouldn't believe."

"Slayer power," Regina sighed mournfully. "Super strong, fast healing, and perfect skin. It's enough to make you sick."

"Hey, if you wanna take on the undead so you don't get zits," Emma said, grinning, "be my guest."

Regina and Mary Margaret exchanged looks.

"We're good," Mary Margaret said.

"Peachy," Regina agreed. "I'll stick with my glamours."

Emma stuffed another handful of chips in her mouth triumphantly. "So, what do we do now?" she asked. "I'm not having my hair braided."

Mary Margaret scrambled across the floor. "I got movies!" she said. "We've got girly movies or we have Thelma and Louise."

Regina gave Emma a look. "I think I know what you'll go for."

Emma sprawled back on the couch. "Damned straight."

"Thelma and Louise it is," Mary Margaret said, popping the DVD out of the box.

 

 

_________________________________________________

 

The hotel was high-class and expensive. Gold was unsurprised. The pirate always did have a taste for the expensive lifestyle. The night was still young, the sun barely set, which meant that they wouldn't have left to feed.

He approached the reception counter, nodding curtly to the concierge who was dealing with a telephone call. It was a public place, which was a much more suitable place for a confrontation. As arrogant as Jones was, he was unlikely to kill in a public forum. 

"Can I help you, Sir?" The Concierge set the telephone receiving back in its cradle.

Gold forced a smile. "Indeed," he said. "I have an appointment with Mrs Jones. I'm a little early, but I was wondering if you would be able to let her know I'm here."

It was only a guess that they would be staying under the pirate's name, but it proved to be correct. The Concierge smiled. "I'll call up right away, sir," she said. "Can I have your name please?"

"Gold," he replied.

She smiled again, too white teeth gleaming. "Thank you, sir," she said. She tapped in the number and spoke in quick polite tones to whoever lifted the phone on the other end. When she set the receiver down, she smiled that false, bright smile once more. "She says she'll be down in a moment, if you'll wait in the bar, sir."

His legs shook beneath him as he walked the brief distance to the bar, and he sat down on one of the stools facing inwards. His reflection stared back at him. He looked pale. Not really a surprise, since he was not only sitting down to meet with a vampire, but the woman who had once been his wife. 

It was tempting to order a drink, but he needed to have all his faculties, so he ordered a soda water and lime. The ice was only just beginning to melt when he became aware of someone in the seat next to him.

He glanced up at the mirror.

The stool was reflected back as empty.

"Hello, dearie," he murmured, turning to look at her.

Millie, the demon who wore the skin of the woman who had been his wife, smiled back at him. It didn't quite reach her eyes. He let his eyes flick over her. She looked exactly the same, despite nearly three decades going by. 

"This is a surprise," she said, raising a hand to call the bartender closer. "Bloody Mary. Easy on the Mary."

He moved away and Gold watched the woman. The vampire. "Why are you in town?"

She propped her arms on the bar. "The climate," she said with a lazy smile. "And the people. Very hospitable, don't you think?"

"You should leave."

"Except one, apparently," she observed wryly.

Gold looked down at his glass. "I'm giving you a chance to walk out of here alive."

She laughed. "What? You think you can take me now?" she said. "You couldn't even do it when I was lying in my coffin. What makes you think you can deal with me when I'm at the top of my game? Do you want to see what I can do to your other leg?"

"I don't plan on doing anything," he murmured, turning the glass between his hands. "But you've run into my girl before at the museum. You know you were lucky to get out of that alive."

She was silent for a long moment. The bartender returned and set down a glass in front of her that was much too dark and thick to just be tomato juice. She picked up the glass, watching Gold. "You'd set your Slayer on us?"

"I didn't say that," he said finally, looking at her. "I'm just saying I wouldn't stop her."

A cold hand pressed to his knee, sliding upwards. Gold shuddered, but it was his wife's face that looked back at him when he turned to her. "And yet, here you are," she murmured, in that low, intimate, bedroom voice, "warning me to run. You always were an awful Watcher. Can't stand to get your hands dirty, can you?"

He looked down at her hand, then lifted it away with his own. "If you touch me again," he said quietly. "I will kill you. I'm giving you one last chance to get out of here. If you stay in this town, if you cause any problems, I'm not going to hold her back, no matter who you were to me."

"Or who I still am?" she said, laughing. Her drink had stained her teeth pink. 

He rose from the stool. "You're no one," he said. "I just wanted you to know that you have enemies here."

She turned on her stool, leaning back against the bar, and crossed one leg over the other, her skirt riding up her thighs. "That's not new," she said. "At least this time, I've got someone strong enough to actually fight on my side."

A muscle twitched in Gold's cheek. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"You warned Killian," she remembered thoughtfully. "Look where that got us." Her human visage slipped, just for a moment, and was back in place just as quickly. "I don't think we'll be going anywhere, sweetheart. We like it here. Set your little girl on us if you want. We need a challenge."

Gold turned his back on her and walked away. His smile was thin and grim and hidden. She didn't know it, but she had just made things a lot easier.

 

_____________________________________________________________

 

It was dark when Regina was shaken awake.

She stirred drowsily, squinting into the darkness. "Mm?"

"Wake up, dear," her mother murmured. "It's time for your next lesson."

"Mother?"

The bedside lamp was flicked on and her mother smiled down at her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Yes, dear," she said. "Come along. The moon is rising, and the alignment of the stars is perfect for magic tonight."

Regina sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Can't it wait until another night?" she asked sleepily.

"No, dear." There was steel in her mother's words, and she knew better than to argue, scrambling out of the bed. "If you hadn't been running around with those silly girls, you could have had more sleep."

"They're my friends, mother."

Her mother sniffed. "I've heard about that Emma Swan," she said. "I don't think she's a good influence."

Regina stepped into her slippers and pulled her dressing gown on. "Most of the stories aren't true," she said quietly. "She helped me."

Her mother waved dismissively. "She gets into fights and misses school. Unreliable and quick-tempered. If you are to get anywhere in life, you need to learn how to wear a mask and make sure no one knows what you're thinking."

"Yes, mother," Regina sighed, following her mother out into the hall and down the staircase.

At least, she thought, she had her riding date on the weekend. It would be away from the house and away from being told she wasn't doing well enough, and with someone who didn't mind that she sometimes she just needed to be heard.

The candles were already lit, the flickering glow visible as they descended to the basement. 

Her mother's workroom was on the upper level, but the basement was where her training was taking place, even if it felt cold so late in the night. No amount of candles could make it feel any warmer. She tied her dressing gown tighter.

"What's the lesson tonight, mother?"

"A test of your resolve and your strength," her mother replied over her shoulder. "I need you to be strong, for what's coming. I can't have any weak links when he rises."

"He..." Regina paused on the stairs. "Who's he? What's coming?"

"Never you mind now, dear," her mother said. "Just know that you have to be ready." She pushed the door open and motioned Regina to join her. 

Regina hurried down the last few stairs and stopped dead in the doorway. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of the figure laid out in the centre of the circle. "M-mother," she whispered hoarsely. "What have you done?"

Her mother's hands closed on her shoulders. "Oh, don't worry, Regina," she said. "He's only unconscious."

Regina jerked away from her mother, whirling around to face her, backing away. "Only?" she exclaimed, her hands shaking. She gathered up her dressing gown and darted through the flames, falling to her knees at Daniel's side. He was breathing, faintly, but didn't stir when she shook him. "You can't kidnap someone like this!"

"I've been watching him for some time," her mother said impatiently, the door slamming closed behind her at a gesture. "Ever since the Blanchard girl mentioned him. His parents hardly pay him any attention as it is. He won't be missed."

Regina dragged him up into her arms. "You're not hurting him."

"Oh, I know that, dear." Her mother folded her hands in front of him. "You are."

Regina felt sick. "No."

"Oh, don't worry, darling." Her mother circled around the candles, the motion making the flames flicker and leap wildly. "You don't need to kill him. That would be barbaric. You simply need to... utilise him, his essence. He's a strong young man. I doubt he'll even notice."

Regina held Daniel tighter. "I'm not going to utilise him for anything, mother!"

Her mother laughed softly. "Of course you will," she said. "It's all a matter of perspective. Some people will do anything they need to, in order to survive. And I need you to be capable of that when the time comes. I need to know you are capable of that."

"So you'll make me fight you for him?"

Her mother made a brief, dismissive gesture. "Nothing so primitive," she said with a smile, returning to the door. "This room is sealed by magic. Magic is the only way to get out." She opened the door, her hand resting on the handle. "If you want to get out, you know what you have to do."

"People will notice," Regina said, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "People will notice if I'm not at school. And Daniel."

"Notice?" Her mother laughed. "Oh, darling, don't you know that's what magic is for?" She stepped into the doorway. "You know what you need to do if you want to be free. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy your prison."

The door closed behind her, and one by one, the candles flickered out.

 

_______________________________________

 

“I still don’t see why I couldn’t come,” Jeff complained.

Emma grinned at the ceiling. “Mary Margaret, do you want to be the one to explain to this boy what Girls’ Night means?”

“You mean the way it’s a night for girls of the female persuasion?” Mary Margaret said, widening her eyes in feigned shock, as they entered the main school building.

“That’s sexist,” Jeff declared.

“So you’d want to come and hear me and Regina mooning over our football playing boyfriends, then?”

Jeff stopped in his tracks. “That’s what you talked about?”

Emma pulled a face. “Oh yeah. All night. All about the making out and the dating and their manly, football-playing shoulders,” she said. “It was so hot.”

Jeff looked at her in disbelief, then at Mary Margaret. “That was sarcasm, right?”

“Maybe a little,” Mary Margaret said, laughing. She raised a hand in greeting. “Hey! Regina!”

Regina was standing at her locker and glanced at them, but turned back to her locker, her nose wrinkling. She closed the door, locked it, and stalked off in the other direction, and Mary Margaret frowned, lowering her hand.

“That was weird.”

“What? That Regina’s behaving like she did for the last seven years?” Jeff said. “Oh, yeah. That’s new and shocking behaviour.” He nudged Emma. “See? That’s how you do sarcasm.”

“She’s right, though,” Emma said, frowning. “Do you think she did another spell that went wrong?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “She said she didn’t use magic much anymore.”

“Here’s a concept: she’s a liar,” Jeff put in. “I get that she got bitten by the happy bug called Daniel, but can she really change that much?” Both of them looked at him. “Okay! Okay!” He held up his hands. “Something’s going on and it’s bad!” He paused. “So what is it?”

“Maybe Daniel’ll know,” Emma suggested. “They were gearing up for their big date on Saturday.”

“I’ll ask David to ask him,” Mary Margaret said with a nod. “See you in math?”

She hurried off, leaving Jeff and Emma standing in the hallway.

“So you really talked about boys?” he inquired. 

“They did,” Emma said. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” Jeff shrugged his satchel off his shoulder. “Good for you.”

She nudged him. “Come on, dumbass,” she said. “We have chem.”

They caught up with Mary Margaret in math, and she looked so worried that Emma was glad they’d grabbed desks at the back of the room.

“Daniel didn’t show up for class,” Mary Margaret whispered. “His mom called Lance this morning to ask if he’d seen him. He hasn’t been home since yesterday.” She shook her head. “Dan’s mom doesn’t call people. She’s not a people person. If she called, something bad has to have happened.”

“To Regina and Daniel?” Emma groaned. “This does sound kind of like magic stuff.”

“You want me to talk to her?” Mary Margaret said.

Emma hesitated. After what happened the last time with Mary Margaret, Regina, and magic, it didn’t feel like a good idea. “Maybe as a group?” she suggested. “That way, we can watch each other’s backs if something’s up.”

They went looking for her after class and found her in the cafeteria, surrounded by her old coterie of admirers.

“Regina?” Emma said. “Can we speak to you?”

Regina looked up at them, then sighed impatiently. “You can have a minute,” she said, rising and approaching them. “What do you want?”

“Is everything okay, Regina?” Mary Margaret asked. “Daniel hasn’t shown up today and you don’t seem as happy as you did last night.”

Regina put her head to one side. “Why would you think that?” she said. “I’m completely happy.”

“You ignored us,” Mary Margaret said in a small voice. “Did we do something wrong?”

Regina laughed. Her lipstick was redder than usual and she shook her head. “I realised I was holding myself back,” she said. She patted Mary Margaret cheek. “No offence, dear, but I have to look onwards and upwards, and you three aren’t that.”

Mary Margaret looked on the verge of tears.

“You want to say that to me, Gina?” Emma said darkly, stepping between them.

“What makes you think I’d say anything different to you, Miss Swan?” Regina said, hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Beat me up? I know all about you. You’re messed up.”

Emma’s hands clenched into fists. “Fine way to speak to people who saved your damned life more than once,” she growled. 

Regina hesitated just long enough. “You’ve had your minute,” she said, turning and stalking back to her table.

Emma turned back to Mary Margaret, who was pale and shaking. “You okay?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “She didn’t know,” she said quietly. “She didn’t know you saved her life.”

“Then that’s not Regina,” Jeff said quietly. “Something is definitely wrong.”

 

________________________________________________

 

Regina wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she’d been relieved to find the spare box of matches she kept under the table for those days when her pyromancy wasn’t enough to light a taper. 

She knew she was never destined to be a great witch, but a good enough witch knew when not to waste magic on lighting a candle. 

Daniel still hadn’t woken up, so she could only guess there was some kind of charm on him to keep him unconscious. As soon as she’d lit a couple of the candles, she’d pulled some of the drapes down from the walls and wrapped him up in them to keep him warm. She’d wrapped another around herself as well to ward off the cold. 

Even though she knew it was pointless, she had tried breaking the lock and hammered at the door until her hands were bruised and bleeding. Her mother would have soundproofed the basement, and even if she hadn’t, Regina’s father never came near the place. 

She had no idea what time it was. There were no windows and no clocks, only the tools of her magical training, herself and Daniel. All she knew was that she was cold and tired and hungry and afraid. 

She didn’t want to believe that her mother was serious, but now that she thought about, she thought how passive her father always was after she and mother had been practising magic, how much quieter and faded he seemed. If mother was using him, as she wanted Regina to use Daniel, she was killing him little by little.

Regina picked up one of the candles, making her way across the floor.

One of her mirrors was there. 

It was the only magic she could do reliably, even if it wasn’t the strongest. 

There was something her mother hated about them. She couldn’t do mirror magic. She said it was making one weaker, something to do with splitting one’s self into two separate beings, but Regina didn’t mind it. There was a world inside the mirrors, a world where another her could look out of any mirror in town.

In Regina’s mind, anything that wasn’t magic like her mother’s was sounding more and more appealing with each passing moment.

She pulled the cloth from the tall mirror, her reflection flickering and edged with faint golden light. She touched the surface, and reached inwards for the little power she knew she had. Her teeth were chattering from the cold and she closed her eyes, seeking a particular mirror.

There was a boy in front of it, standing in front of a sink and brushing his teeth.

He was young, maybe ten or eleven, and Regina’s heart leapt. Henry. Emma’s brother.

She could see him so clearly that she almost felt like she could reach out through the glass and touch him. It was impossible. Even if she had the power to open a portal into the mirror world, she didn’t enough to push out of the other side again.

There was steam on the mirror, wispy and pale, and Regina could feel her legs giving way beneath her, as she drew on everything she had within her to try and make enough contact to leave a message, something, anything.

Slowly, slowly, shapes formed in the condensation. Letters.

It was working.

Henry stopped brushing his teeth and stared at the mirror, then started yelling.

There was a clatter from the stairs. Regina staggered, the contact snapping like a taut thread, and she fell to her knees. She crawled back to Daniel’s side, pulling him closer, and looked warily up at the door. 

No one came in, but a tray had appeared, just beside it.

Food, Regina thought bleakly. At least mother didn’t intend to leave her to starve. She picked her way across the floor and dragged the tray back with her to Daniel’s side. 

“We’re going to be okay,” she told him in a whisper. “I promise. I sent a message.”

She only hoped it was enough.

 

____________________________________________

 

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Emma said.

Gold nodded grimly. “Coincidences are rare enough, but especially in this case.” 

The message on the mirror had long-since faded, but he had written it down for the Slayer, though it was hardly necessary: Help us. Reg.

Emma paced back and forth across the floor. “She was at school today, but she wasn’t her,” she said. She turned to Gold. “She does the witch stuff. She says her mom does it too, and I know her mom really doesn’t like us.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Is it possible to use magic to look like someone else?”

“Only for the very powerful,” Gold said. “To do that, you would need to have a source of power to feed off.”

“What kind of power?”

Gold shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “This isn’t anything that I’ve encountered before.” He looked at the message again. “Do you know much about Regina’s mother?”

“Apart from the witch-stuff?” Emma shook her head. “Regina says she’s pretty full-on in the wanting to run Regina’s life way. She doesn’t like Regina’s choices. Who she spends time with. Regina couldn’t even tell her that she had a boyfriend, because she thought she’d freak out about it.”

“Did she seem afraid of her?” Gold asked.

Emma hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe?” She rubbed her forehead. “My gut is telling me to go over there and tear the house apart for some sign of them. But she’s not a demon or a monster or something. She’s just a mom. I can’t kick someone’s ass for being a pushy mom, can I?”

“Unfortunately, that’s true,” Gold agreed, “but I don’t imagine Regina’s father would mind if you came over to see him about his daughter. If you could find some way to lure the false Regina out of the house?”

Emma looked thoughtful. “Lance might help.”

“Lance?”

“He’s a football player,” Emma clarified. “He’s from a rich family who are big in politics or something. If Regina’s right about her mom, then he’s just the kind of person she would want Regina to get tangled up with. Mary Margaret can call him and get him to help.”

“Why would he do that?”

“You’ve never met a real football player, have you?” Emma said wryly. “Those guys watch each other’s backs and if Daniel is in trouble with Regina…”

“A sound plan,” he agreed. “Do you need any help?”

She shook her head. “Just try and explain away magic writing in a mirror to Henry,” she said. “I’ll call Mary Margaret.”

It worked like a charm.

Mary Margaret and Emma waited in the shrubberies of the house next door to Regina’s and watched as Jeff drove up. He was playing at being Lance’s driver for the night, and his face was half-hidden by the shadow of his cap.

For a moment, the Regina who emerged from the house almost looked like the Regina they knew, but she was smiling a little too sharply, eyes a little too bright, and she embraced Lance a little too eagerly. 

“You so have to kick her middle-aged ass,” Mary Margaret hissed.

“Not before we find Regina,” Emma murmured.

They waited until the car was well out of sight before heading towards the house.

“Have you ever met her dad before?” Emma asked.

Mary Margaret shook her head. “He usually keeps to himself,” she said. “He’s in law or something like that, but he’s a nice guy.” She stepped up onto the step and rapped on the door, retreating back to Emma’s side.

The door opened on a middle-aged man with wispy greying hair, a pale, drawn face and surprisingly kind eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Emma stepped forward smiling her best, false smile. “I’m a friend of Regina’s from school. We were wondering if we could talk to you about her? It’s for a surprise for her birthday and we are totally hopeless at knowing what to get…”

Mr Mills looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “Of course, girls,” he said. “You come in and we can have a good talk.”

 

_____________________________________________

 

Someone was pounding on the door.

Regina was too dazed to realise at first, but when she did, she called out, and struggled to her feet, stumbling towards the door and beating on it.

“Hey! We’re in here!”

“Regina?”

Regina’s knees nearly buckled with relief. “Emma!” she called through the door. “Can you break the door down?”

“Get clear!” Emma’s voice was muffled. “Tell me when!”

Regina retreated back across the room, dragging Daniel as far as possible into one of the corners. “Okay!” she called, holding him tightly. She pulled one of the draped over his head and shielded her own head with her arm as Emma started kicking the door.

It took half a dozen blows then the door and frame splintered inwards.

Purple magic crawled across the walls and ceiling from the charms that had shattered, and Regina felt like she could breathe again.

“You okay?” Emma said, running across the room and dropping to one knee.

“Better now,” Regina replied, tugging the drapes aside. “Get him out of here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

The voice came from the doorway.

Emma froze, lifting her eyes to Regina’s.

Regina felt her hands shaking. “Mother? How did you…?”

“Feel two little intruders cross my threshold?” Her mother was still speaking with her stolen voice. It changed pitch and tone, as she resumed her own form. “Really, darling, did you think I would leave you unguarded?”

Emma spun around and was almost quick enough to strike, but Regina’s mother had already moved, and Emma ricocheted of an invisible barrier, crashing against the wall and falling in a heap. 

“I told you she was a bad influence, dear.”

Regina held Daniel tighter. “I won’t let you lock us up again.”

Her mother laughed. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “You didn’t even get as far as unlocking the door.” She reached down to drag Daniel away, but Regina caught her by the wrist, her eyes blazing. “Now, Regina, no more silliness.”

“You won’t touch him,” Regina snarled, reaching out with her magic. The mirror shimmered and flickered and glowed, but her mother didn’t even notice. “You won’t hurt him again.”

Her mother shook her head. “Darling, until you embrace power, do you think you can tell me what to do?”

Regina’s heart felt like it was thundering in her chest. She was still holding Daniel tightly and she spread her hand over his heart, praying he would understand. “I think I can tell you exactly what to do,” she whispered and drew on Daniel’s strength to support her own.

It was like wildfire in her veins and she rose, still gripping her mother’s wrist like iron.

“You’re going to leave. You’re going to let me live my life.”

Her mother looked delighted. “There’s my girl,” she said proudly. “I knew you had it in you. Now take the rest…”

Regina stared at her, then beyond her at the shimmering mirror. “No,” she said. “We’re done, mother. No more.”

It shocked her how easy it was as she opened her palms and unleashed a surge of power straight at her mother. Her mother screamed, stumbling back, and when she should have hit the mirror, she simply seemed to fall through the glass, and she was gone.

Regina swayed on her feet, gasping, and shaking. She could feel the pulse of Daniel’s life in her ears, the ripple of his energy. She sagged down onto her knees, touching his face with a shaking hand.

“D-Daniel?” He didn’t move, and Regina whimpered, stroking his cheek. “Wake up. You have to wake up.”

“Regina?” 

Emma.

Emma was here.

Emma had saved them both.

Regina looked up. “We need to get him out of here,” she said. “Please.”

 

___________________________________________

 

“Is he going to be okay?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “They don’t know,” she said.

David wrapped his arms around her. They were standing in the corridor of Storybrooke’s main hospital, a few other members of the football team nearby. “He’s a good guy,” he said quietly. “I wish I’d been able to help.”

“I don’t think anyone really could have,” Mary Margaret murmured. “No one knew how bad Mrs Mills was until now.” She glanced through the glass. Daniel’s parents were talking quietly to Regina, who was standing with her father’s arm around her. 

“Hey.” Emma emerged from the ward. 

“Any news?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma shook her head. “They can’t find anything physically wrong with him,” she said. “I don’t know what Regina’s mom did to keep him under, but it’s like it switched something off inside his head. Everything else is fine. He’s just… out.”

“Damn,” David said, shaking his head. “Is there anything we can do?”

Emma ran a hand over her face. She didn’t even seem to notice that she had a mess of blood on her skin from Cora’s attack. “Best we can do is help when they need it,” she said. 

“This is my fault,” Mary Margaret said in a whisper. “If I hadn’t mentioned Daniel in front of her, Mrs Mills wouldn’t have gone after him.”

“You don’t know that,” Emma said. “She might have found someone else. One of us. This isn’t on us. It’s on her.”

“At least she’s gone,” Mary Margaret said with a shiver. 

“Through the looking glass,” Emma agreed with a nod. She looked through the window at Regina, who had buried her face in her father’s shoulder. “I think it’ll be better now.” She jerked her head. “C’mon. We can’t do more here.”

Together, the three of them walked down the hall.

None of them felt the eyes watching them or heard the sound of hands pounding wildly at the inside of a mirror as they passed by.


	10. Parental Guidance

It was rare to be invited into a house, especially when the homeowner knew exactly who and what he was.

Killian wandered around the elegant living room, examining the paintings on the wall, the crystal vases on the mantle. Everything about the place spoke of wealth. He dragged his fingertips along the polished marble of the mantle.

"Shame we can't target this place," Millie said, reclining on one of the couches. She nodded to one of the paintings on the wall. "That painting is worth a fortune."

"It is."

Both of them turned.

There was a young woman standing in the doorway.

Killian stalked closer to the couch. "Run along, little girl," he said. "We're here to do business with..."

"I know who you're here to do business with," the woman said, smiling. "But it's safe to say that they are currently... reflecting on matters." She crossed the floor with a step of a predator. "I was the one who contacted you."

Millie sat up a little straighter. "You have a job for us?"

The woman nodded. "Take a seat if you please, Mr Jones," she said.

Killian sat, watching her suspiciously. "You're not the power in these parts."

"Not yet," the woman agreed. "But I have money." She opened the folder she was carrying. "I have two targets." She laid the images on the coffee table in front of them. "Both of these people have... items I'm looking for."

Millie leaned forward, a predatory gleam in her eye. "Oh, that's perfect," she purred, dragging her hand from Killian's knee down his thigh.

"You know them?"

Killian's lips curved up. "We know him," he said, leaning forward and tapping one of the images. "The girl, we don't know." He raised his eyes to the woman on the other side of the table. "Tell me, love, just how much are you willing to pay us?"

"Same as you were paid before for that last artefact you procured," the woman said. 

"Ah," Killian murmured, "but this is different. I think we'll need to raise the price."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And why is this so different?"

"Well, love," he said, smiling coolly at her, as Millie's hand lazily stroked his inner thigh. "We'll need hazard pay. After all, there's a Slayer in town, and you just happen to be sending us after her Watcher."

The woman's eyes widened. "A Slayer?"

"Mm." Millie nestled against Killian's side. "Emma Swan. She's a tough little bitch."

"Ergo," Killian said. "Hazard pay."

The woman leaned back in her seat, gazing at them. "Emma Swan. The Slayer. That's... interesting."

"Yes." Killian turned his head as Millie nuzzled at his throat. "You're not the only one to think so." He and Millie both turned back to her with dark smiles. "So you're going to either have to raise your price or find other thieves who don't value their hides quite as highly as we do."

"Or," the young woman said, "I provide a diversion that means the Slayer will be far too busy to even notice two unrelated burglaries."

Killian raised an eyebrow. "What kind of diversion?"

"You leave that to me," she said. "But be ready when I call. If all goes to plan, you'll have a few hours."

"If." Killian said, shaking his head. "That's a nasty word."

"You're free to walk out the door," the woman said, "but this is going to be a challenge." Her dark eyes gleamed. "I know you appreciate a challenge, Captain."

Killian looked at Millie, who grinned.

"Well then, love," he said, turning back to their employer, "what are we looking for?

 

_____________________________________________________

 

 

"What time do you call this?"

Emma scowled as she shed her jacket. "I'm gonna guess late," she said, hanging the coat up on the rack by the door. 

Gold was standing in the doorway, watching her. "You were meant to come straight back after patrol," he reminded her quietly. "You know how much Henry is inclined to worry, when you don't come back."

Emma toed off her boots. "Yeah." She blew out a noisy breath. "Those demons you sent me after weren't about to bury themselves."

His eyes flicked over her and she cocked her head, spreading her hands, inviting inspection. He stepped aside to let her into the living room, and she padded across the floor towards the kitchen. "You're unhurt?"

She nodded, pouring herself a glass of milk. She was tired, and she knew Gold wouldn't push, not even if he suspected she was injured. He knew her well enough not to ask, because she damned well wouldn't tell. Her ribs had been broken so many times that she'd lost count, and she knew she was going to have to get rid of the shirt she was wearing under her sweater. It was sticky with blood, clinging to her skin.

"It just took longer than usual to get rid of them," she said, lying into the milk glass. "Nothing to worry about."

"Miss Swan..."

She turned sharply on her heel. "Do we have to do the debrief right now, Gold?" she asked. "I killed the demons like you asked. I'm tired. I'm cranky as hell. I have demon-gunk in my hair. I just want to have a drink and a shower and get to bed." 

Gold nodded, and she knew that he knew she was hiding something. He was starting to see her too well, and it was weirding her out. None of the other homes they had been in had been as settled as this one, but then, none of the people there had paid her or Henry half the attention Gold paid both of them. It wasn't that he cared, she knew. He was a Watcher. He had a job to do and that was to keep her alive.

Well, she was alive. 

She might be bruised up and bloody, but she was alive and that was all he needed to know.

She pushed by him, as if it didn't make her arm scream in pain, and headed for the bathroom. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, and wanted to turn, to yell, to remind him he was just her Watcher. He didn't have to pretend like he gave a damn.

She slammed the bathroom door harder than she needed to and heard the wood crackle. 

Sometimes, being a Slayer sucked.

You couldn't just do the regular thing like beating the hell out of a pillow or throwing things without wrecking something.

Emma stripped of her clothes, bundling up her vest. It was once blue, but now, it was turned dark, rusty red with dried blood. It was only a scratch. Deep, sure, but still, one claw across her back wasn't anything to make a big deal about.

She got into the shower, turning on the water as hot and powerful as she could. It burned like hell as the water streamed down over her shoulders, and she grit her teeth against the whimpers that wanted to escape. It would heal. It always did. Never even left a mark.

She watched the water swirling around her feet until it ran clear, then rinsed her hair, before stepping out of the shower and wrapping her bathrobe around her. She'd never liked them before, but it was easier to hide any marks under them than under a towel.

The lights in the living room were off.

Looked like Gold had gone to bed.

Emma padded through the hall towards her own room. 

There was a bundle in front of the door and she paused, crouching down to pick it up.

The first aid box.

Emma stared at it, then picked it up. 

She didn't want him to ask about it, and he wasn't going to make her, but he could tell when she was hurt, and he knew what she needed, and for that she was grateful. Not that she would say so. It was easier not to.

She stepped into her room, first aid box under her arm, and closed the door.

 

_________________________________________________

 

"You too?"

Mary Margaret looked around at the other students milling around in the quad. "I thought we were the only ones," she said. "Did your teacher even show up?"

Jeff shook his head, the feather on his cap waving precariously. "We were sitting in the classroom for half an hour before anyone realised." He yelped, raising his satchel over his head as the first spots of rain started falling from a cloud-heavy, overcast black sky. "Can we get to shelter?"

"Cafeteria?" Mary Margaret suggested.

They fled side by side for the building, which was already filling up.

Emma waved at them from the staircase and they pushed and squeezed their way towards her.

"What the hell's going on?" she asked.

"God knows," Jeff said, looking around. "The teachers didn't bother showing up for classes this afternoon. Maybe there's a teachers conference or something?" 

"They would have told us," Mary Margaret said. "Wait here!" She darted back down into the crush of people, returning moments later with Regina at her side. 

Regina looked tired and subdued, and Jeff had no doubt she would have stayed lost in the crowd if Mary Margaret hadn't found her. Ever since Daniel had been abducted by her mother, ever since she did whatever it was she did to him, Regina hadn't seemed the same. She was much quieter, graver, hardly said a word to anyone. She had only just come back to school, after several days to deal with the shock of it all.

Most people didn't know what happened.

There were rumours - as always - which said she and Daniel had been in a car crash, and that it was her fault. It was easier to believe that than to believe her witch of a mother had tried to make him little more than a magical battery for Regina.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

Regina's lips twitched in a wan smile. "I came back to school on the right day."

"Wanna get out of here?" Emma suggested. "I don't see any adult supervision around."

"It's raining," Jeff objected, "and the parking lot will be mobbed."

"The library," Mary Margaret said at once. "No one will be there, and we can wait until it's quieter. And we won't get in trouble for skipping class, because we can say we were in there to study, since the teachers were gone."

"So that's why you spend all that time in the library?" Jeff said, as they headed up the stairs.

Mary Margaret tried her best to look virtuous.

As predicted, the library was quiet, deserted, though the librarian was sitting at her desk, poring over a book. She looked up guiltily when they entered, hastily shoving a returns slip into the book as a bookmark.

"Hi kids!" she said with forced brightness. "Can I help you? Do you want books?"

Jeff glanced at Mary Margaret, who looked surprised. "We just need somewhere to study," she said on their behalf. 

"Of course!" Miss French smiled. "I'll be closing up in an hour, but just... don't make noise, okay?"

They headed up in the direction of the study rooms, but Mary Margaret kept glancing back.

"She seemed kind of buzzed," Jeff said. "Is she always like that?"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "No," she said. "She's usually much calmer."

"Too much sugar in her coffee maybe?" Emma suggested, falling into the first chair they reached.

"Could be," Regina said, sitting down too. She was toying with her necklace, turning the pendant between her fingers, the ruby catching the light as she toyed with it. "I thought it would be okay to come back today. Just a regular day."

"Ha!" Jeff snorted, spinning a chair around and perching on it. "You don't get those around here." Regina's lips twitched faintly. He cocked his head, watching her. "Has there been any change?"

Regina shook her head. "They can't find any reason for him not to wake up," she said, lowering her hands to her lap. "He's physically fine, but it's like..." She shivered. "She switched something off in his head, and he won't wake up."

"Could magic..."

Regina shook her head wildly. "I'm not using magic again, not on him," she said, her voice shaking.

"On him?" Mary Margaret said quietly. "Regina, did you?"

Regina's hands were twisting together, her knuckles white. "I had to find a way out," she whispered. "I was so tired, and I didn't think it would hurt him, if it was just enough to call for help." She lifted her head to look at Mary Margaret. "What if it's my fault? What if I did this to him?"

Mary Margaret clasped her hands. "He was already like this before you did anything, wasn't he?" she said.

Regina nodded.

"Then it wasn't you," Emma said. "This was her. This was all her." She patted Regina awkwardly on the shoulder. "You did right to call for help."

Regina lowered her eyes.

Emma fidgetted awkwardly, rising and heading back to the edge of the stacks, peeking through them. "I think we should head back to the shop," she said, leaning against the shelves. "Something weird is going on here."

"Is Miss French doing something weird?" Jeff hurried over.

Emma socked him on the arm. "No," she said, "but don't tell me you don't find it weird that no one is even looking for us. Or anyone. When was the last time you saw an adult sitting like that?" She nodded towards Miss French, who was curled up in her seat, her feet propped up on the arm of the chair. "That's how Mary Margaret sits when she thinks no one is looking."

"So?"

"So that's not how a librarian sits when she knows there are students around." She returned back to Mary Margaret and Regina. "I think we need to get to Gold. Something big is going on, something that's affected all the staff of the school."

"At least it's just the school," Mary Margaret said, getting up.

"We hope," Jeff said. They all looked at him. "What?"

Emma looked grim.

"We need to go," she said, hurrying back towards the main doors of the library.

 

_________________________________________________

 

Killian watched the children dispersing. 

Their benefactor had done well.

He wasn't sure quite what she had done, but the change was in the air. The little one were milling around like lost sheep, while the adults who should have been protecting them were nowhere to be seen. 

The storm had been a perfect opportunity, blackening the sky and making it no risk at all to walk abroad in daylight, which was why he could stride across the quad of the High school and up the steps into the building so early in the afternoon. 

The sound of his boots on polished floors sounded deafening in a school abandoned and silent.

A few children still loitered, but hardly any even gave him a glance. It was a strange day and a strange man clad all in black was hardly worth anyone's attention. Some of them were fresh, throbbing with life, but the job had to come first. Payment and then carnage. It was much easier to bask in a bloodbath with dollars to roll about on.

He covered a staircase two steps at a time, pushing through swing doors and humming to himself as he strode onwards. The upper level of the building was silent as the grave, and he saw the doors ahead, his destination.

There was a clatter from within.

So the little lamb was still about, then?

Killian smiled.

Permission had been given to kill if necessary, and who was to say that the little lamb's struggles wouldn't make it necessary, once the job was done?

He pushed the door of the library open.

He could smell fear, sweet and powerful, though he could not see its owner.

Killian softened his step, entering the library. As much as he wanted to be the one to face Gold again, Millie had taken his warning personally, and was looking forward to taking a pound of flesh from him. Quite literally. She had her heart set on sucking his heart dry. 

And so, Killian was set after the librarian and the weapon she bore. 

He turned at the sound of clicking and saw a slight figure crouched down by what had to be a safe, within a large book cage. She was turning the ancient dials, and didn't seem to notice that he was there. 

"Looking for something, love?" he inquired, grinning when she rose, spinning around. 

"The library's closed," she said. She was smaller than she looked in the picture, diminutive and barefoot, her floral dress swirling around her knees. Bright blue eyes were watching him with wary defiance. "I think you should leave."

He strolled closer. The way she shrank further back into her cage, into the shelves lined with inks and bottles and books was adorable. So afraid that she didn't see she was making it so much easier for him.

"Why would I do that?" he inquired, leaning against the doorway of the book cage.

"Because I wouldn't want to have to hurt you," she said with a frankness that made him burst out laughing. 

"Hurt me?" he said, shaking his head and allowing his demonic visage to show forth. It was a party-trick, really, and so rarely done in daylight. She recoiled and he grinned, baring his fangs. "I don't think it's me we have to worry about."

She was backed up against the shelves, wide-eyed, and fumbling behind her, as if inks and glues or even books could save her.

"What are you?" she whispered.

"Vampire, love," he said, swinging into the cage, bracing his hand against the doorframe. "And you know what that makes you, don't you?"

She smiled, sudden and bright. "Armed," she replied, and brought her arm up in an arc. The contents of a bottle splashed all over his face and he bellowed in pain. It wasn't holy water, but it burned, and blinded him, and he lashed out with his hook.

The little bitch must have dodged, because he felt a foot in front of his ankle as he blundered forward and tripped. He crashed into the cupboard of bottles, and before he could recover his footing, something heavy and hard caught him across the back of his head, and took what little light there was left behind his eyes.

 

____________________________________________________

 

Everything had been done by the book. 

He was Mr Gold now, and he had a Slayer, and he knew what that meant. That was why the Slayer had been sent out on a patrol, to investigate the strangeness. He gave her the order as curtly as he could, and was relieved when she chose to obey it. 

He wasn’t ready for a Slayer. He couldn’t be, not when he hadn’t read the Slayer’s handbook in almost ten years. He knew that technically, he’d been her Watcher for months now, but she came back bruised and bloody and lied to him, and he didn’t say anything.

Surely, a good Watcher would have the trust of their Slayer.

Miss Swan was a good Slayer, of that he had no doubt, but he was out of touch with the current rules, and he didn’t want her to know how worried he was about the fact that he no longer felt quite like himself. He remembered this doubt well enough, this wariness of mistepping, this fear, and he tried to ignore his hands shaking as he leafed through the spell books, looking for a cause.

There was something very wrong in Storybrooke, but he knew to look for it. The watchwords of a keen Watcher were preparation, preparation, preparation. He had not been prepared for this, which made him wonder if there was anything else he had not been ready for.

At least, he thought frantically, Miss Swan was occupied for a while, trying to find out how widespread the effects were in the town, and if he was very lucky, she might not realise he had been affected at all. 

The bell over the shop door rang. He hesitated, frozen, at the books.

“Hello?” The voice was familiar and sounded as nervous as he felt. “Hello? Mr Gold?”

He straightened up, tried to play at calm, and pushed through the curtain from the back of the shop. His heart thumped painfully at the sight of Isabelle French. She was the librarian from the school, and sometimes, they exchanged books. Sometimes, looks too. His mouth felt dry and he held his cane tightly.

“Oh good! You’re here!” she exclaimed, rushing closer to the counter.

He opened his mouth to tell her the shop was closed, but then he noticed that the red patterns on her dress that he thought were flowers were in fact bloodstains. “You’re hurt,” he blurted out.

She looked down at her arm. “Oh! I didn’t notice!”

There was a cut across it and he hurried around the counter, pulling the handkerchief out of his pocket. He never used the thing, just wore it because it looked right, so it was all silk and clean and he pressed it over the bleeding gash.

Her hand covered his and the handkerchief and his mouth went dry again.

“What happened?” he asked, only a little hoarsely. 

She held onto his hand, holding it there, holding it tight. “Vampire.”

Gold felt light-headed, dizzy. Miss Isabelle French was a nice, normal, sensible young lady and people like that weren’t meant to know about vampires and demons and monsters and all the dark creatures in the world. “Vampire?” he echoed.

She nodded. “I know you know about them,” she said. “I’ve heard your girl talking with her friends in the library. She’s the one isn’t she? The Chosen one?”

Gold knew he should say something, deny it all, lie, or something! Anything! All he could do was swallow hard and try desperately to remember what the handbook said about beautiful ladies with bright blue eyes identifying the Slayer while bleeding all over him. Not much, he thought frantically. Not much at all. Blue-eyed ladies or bleeding or any of it.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said hoarsely. 

She let go of his hand, and held the handkerchief in place, smiling uncertainly. “You think I don’t know about demons?” she said quietly. “I do. And I know there’s something wrong in town. Can you help me find out what it is?”

He stared at her, then wet his lips with his tongue. She knew about demons? She knew about vampires? She knew something was wrong and wanted him to help, even though he wasn’t any good at anything?

“Yes,” he whispered. “I can help.”

 

_________________________________________________

 

“Are you sure?”

Emma strode ahead of Jeff, fury written all over her face. “Hell yes,” she said. “Something got to my Watcher and changed him. I know that man, and that man is not the Gold I saw this morning.”

“Emma, what are you going to do?” Mary Margaret called after her. She and Regina were trailing behind them.

“Right now?” Emma said. “I want to find something to hit.”

“Shouldn’t we find out what’s causing it?”

Emma brought herself up short. She was shaking with fury. Gold was calm and capable, but the man she had left watching over her brother and their home didn’t feel like that. 

He’d given her orders, it was true, but he was forcing it. She’d seen enough people playing tough guy to recognise it in someone who was usually the strongest person she knew. He was scared, but he was trying not to be for her sake, and trying to keep on top of things, and she knew she had to do the same.

“Okay,” she said. “How?”

Jeff looked around. Cars were speeding by, people were wandering with their friends, and no one seemed to be doing anything important at all. “Well, we know it’s affecting all the adults,” he said. “I don’t think we’ve seen one doing anything they’re meant to.”

Regina’s hands were clenching by her sides, and she looked pale. “Maybe it’s a distraction?” she said. “If the adults aren’t doing what they’re meant to…”

“Then who is?” Mary Margaret finished.

Emma walked in a tight circle. “Okay, let’s say it is a distraction,” she said. “What’s the best way to affect everyone? I mean, it’s not in the air, right? They can’t just make people breathe in immaturity, can they?”

Jeff tapped his fingers together in front of his face, raising his eyes skywards. He grimaced as a raindrop landed on the end of his nose, then his eyes widened. “No. No, it couldn’t be that simple.”

“What?” Emma, Mary Margaret and Regina demanded.

He held out his hand, raindrops pattering on his skin. “What does everyone use? What does everyone touch? What does everyone drink?”

“Oh my God…” Mary Margaret whispered. “They spiked the water supply.”

“Is that even possible?”

“This isn’t just regular spiking,” Regina said tersely. “There’s something magical involved.”

“So someone put some kind of potion in the water.”

Jeff grimaced. “The way they’re acting, it’s like they’ve been drinking from the fountain of youth.” He stopped short as he said it, his mouth opening in disbelief. He looked warily at Emma. “Did Gold ever mention anything about that being real?”

Emma shook her head. “But there’s a lot he doesn’t mention, unless I need to know,” she said. She put her hands on her hips. “Okay. We might know what’s in the water. We need to let Gold know that. But what next? I don’t think he’ll know what to do.”

“Find out how it got there?” Mary Margaret suggested.

“Find out if the effects are permanent,” Regina added.

“God, I hope not,” Emma said. “I’m not ready to be a responsible adult.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “What could they be distracting people for? It has to be something magical, if they’re using magic to get it.”

Emma pulled out her cell, calling the store. She wasn’t surprised when Gold answered right away. He sounded shakier than he had when she left. “Hey, Gold,” she said. “Do you know anything about the Fountain of Youth?”

“The fountain of youth?” he echoed.

Emma walked a little way away from her companions, and gave him a brief run down of their theory. He didn’t interrupt, which was normal, but when she stopped he was still silent and she hesitantly said, “Gold? You there? What do you think?”

“I-I think you could be right,” he said. He sounded so unlike himself that she felt sick. He was always the one with the answers. “Just a moment.” He covered the mouthpiece of the phone, but she could hear him talking quietly to someone. “Miss Swan, there’s a book in the school library that relates to the myths and tales of the Waters of Life. If you go there, you should find all the information you need. Bring it back to the shop, and we should be able to perform a counter spell to undo the effects.”

She almost asked who ‘we’ was, but if he had help, help was good. “Text me the title,” she said.

“Emma,” he said, before she could hang up.

It brought her up short. He never used her first name, unless it was serious. “Yeah?”

“There was a vampire seen at the school, one of the two thieves,” he said. “Be careful.”

Emma swallowed around the lump in her throat. “You too,” she said, closing up the phone. 

Jeff, Regina and Mary Margaret looked at her expectantly, as she returned to them.

“You won’t believe this,” she said. “The answer’s in the library.”

 

____________________________________________

 

“Do you think they’ll be all right?”

Gold nodded, leafing through the books of natural charms and counterspells. It was easier to work if he tried not to look at Isabelle French. He had left her briefly to go upstairs and get the first aid box. He also checked on Henry, who was watching television and drinking chocolate milk from the bottle. All things considered, Gold thought, it was better that the boy was settled with the television, rather than asking questions in the shop.

Miss French cleaned and bandaged her arm, while he continued to search for a charm of some kind to either undo or shield them from the effects of the waters.

“Mr Gold.” She touched his hand lightly.

He looked up, wary, swallowed hard. She was so close to him he could see the tiny strands of darkness in her blue eyes, like bolts of midnight lightning. “Y-yes?”

“Do you think we’ll be all right?” she asked. 

Her hand was still on his and it was soft and warm and he was having trouble remembering what it was to form words. He wanted to lie and say yes. He wanted to be honest and say no. He wanted to look at her, so lovely, so sweet, every bit as much as she had been when they exchanged books.

“I don’t know,” he croaked. 

He remembered being an adult. An adult would know how to speak to her, to ask her if she would like to have a drink some time, to speak to her as an equal, to voice his admiration. But now, he wasn’t an adult. He felt clumsy and dull-witted and stupid, and she was smiling and bright and had hardly changed at all.

Her thumb brushed along the back of his hand, and she was so close to him he could almost feel how warm she was through his clothing. His eyes flicked to her lips and he saw the tip of her tongue dart out, wetting them. 

“Miss French…”

“Isabelle,” she replied, just as softly. “My name is Isabelle.”

“Isab…” Her name was cut off when she leaned closer and kissed him.

Thoughts. There should have been thoughts. But there weren’t any. There was Isabelle. Kissing him. Kissing his lips. With her lips. A small, unsteady sound escaped him, and she drew back with a sheepish giggle. His heart was racing, so much, and his mouth was even drier than it was before.

She was blushing and he knew he was too.

“So this is what happens when the Slayer’s away.”

Gold froze and Isabelle’s face paled. He knew that voice. Isabelle didn’t. He stepped in front of her and turned to face the door. Millie was standing there, eyes burning gold, and she was grinning like the demon she was.

No. No. His training told him this. She wasn’t Millie anymore. She was just a demon that killed Millie. Millie was dead.

She strolled towards him, and all he could remember was their wedding day, their son’s birth, and his heart was thundering and the blood was tearing through him, making his head lighter. She wasn’t Millie anymore, and his hand tightened on his cane.

She wasn’t Millie anymore than he was the young man he had been.

They had both gone through so much since then.

He was Mr Gold. He knew he was. Even if he was scared to death now, even if he remembered being so young and never having seen a vampire before, he remembered the time that came after that, and he remembered he could and would kill vampires if he had to.

“Get out of here, Millie,” he said, his voice as hard and cold as he could make it. It felt brittle, as if it would break.

“Sorry, Gus.” Millie spread her hands. “This isn’t your playroom now.”

“It’s my shop,” he said, putting a hand back to keep Isabelle safe behind him. He could hear her rattling the drawers behind the counter, behind him, seeking out weapons.

Millie put her head to one side, then snatched a case of tools off the counter and hurled them across the shop. They crashed against the wall, scattering. “Your shop, Gus?” she said. “Your shop? What about your wife?” She bared her fangs, monstrous and terrible. “You let him take me. You let him _kill_ me. You stood and watched.”

Gold’s stomach was roiling. “It was you or it was all of us,” he said. The cane was shaking in his hands. “I couldn’t let him get to Neal. Millie understood that.”

“Millie did,” she said, stalking closer. “ _I_ did.”

Isabelle’s hand slipped into his and he felt the chill metal of his crucifix. He brought it up and the vampire recoiled. “You’re not Millie,” he said quietly. He could feel the blood racing in his veins, and his head was feeling clearer by the instant. “And you’re going to get out of this shop before we have to kill you.”

“You?” She stayed out of arm’s reach, but she laughed. “I know you, Gus. You don’t get your hands dirty, especially not the way you are now.” She shook her head. “I know that man, the one too weak to save me, too weak to kill me.” She spread her hands. “I’m right here. Show me what you’re made of.”

He wished he had the strength to finish her, but she was right, and even if she was a demon, he was to blame for it.

“Mr Gold?”

He didn’t know which of them turned faster, he or Millie, as the side door from the apartment opened into the shop. Henry Swan was standing there, and he took one look into the room and tried to run, but Millie was faster.

She darted across the floor and wrapped her arms around the boy, grinning. “You even replaced our Neal,” she said, looking over her shoulder, dragging him back with her. Henry was wide-eyed with fright, but didn’t struggle. Smart boy. Millie stroked his hair. “What are you going to do with this one, Gus? Drive him away too? Make him wish he was anywhere else but here?” She lowered her fangs towards Henry’s throat. “Watch him die?”

Henry stared up at him, his hands wrapped around Millie’s arm. 

Gold felt distant and calm and himself again.

He nodded and Henry jerked Millie’s arm up and bit her as hard as he could. She yowled in outrage, shaking the boy off her, and that bared her body. Isabelle brought up a crossbow under his arm and fired, the bolt catching Millie low in the belly, driving her back. Henry scrambled for the stairs, and Gold waved Isabelle urgently after him. The boy needed protection, but Millie snarled, charging at Gold.

They crashed backwards through one of the cabinets, shattering glass and the frame around him and he could feel blood streaking down his face. She hit him, hard, once, twice, and hurled him onto the floor, stalking around the ruined cases and dropping to her knees over him, pinning him down on his back. 

“You should have killed me before I woke up, Gus,” she hissed, her face nothing of his wife and everything of the monster. She leaned down and dragged her tongue across his gashed cheek, blood smearing over his face.

“I know,” he breathed, closing his eyes, and letting her bite.

He hoped and prayed the handbooks were right when it came to vampires and their focus on feeding. He could feel his life throbbing against her mouth, and she was so caught up in the feed, so hungry, so angry, that when he caught her arms and swung them both sideways, she didn’t have a chance to fight. The broken cabinet jutted out and her mouth flew from his throat in a scream as the wood pierced through her back, through her heart, and the vampire who was once his wife turned to dust in his hands.

He crumpled back to the floor, breathing hard.

It was over. It was all over.

 

____________________________________________________

 

“Get the feeling we should have brought weapons?” Jeff said warily, as they crept through the deserted school.

Emma reached up under her coat and pulled out a dagger. “Good enough?”

Jeff took it gratefully.

Mary Margaret was taking Regina home. She’d been through enough in the last few days to last anyone a lifetime, and Emma was happier that she would be safer out of it. Of course, that meant she was facing a vampire who was rumoured to be old and strong with nothing more than Jeff for back-up.

Emma’s cell buzzed, and she pulled it out, flipping it open. “Gold says he’s okay,” she murmured to Jeff, as they made their way up the stairs. “Whatever it was, it seems to have worn off for him. He says it’s still affecting others and that they need the book as soon as possible.” 

“What did he do that was so special?” Jeff inquired. “Is it Watcher-stuff?”

Emma shrugged. “Who knows?” She held up her hand. The sound of metal echoing off metal rang through the halls. “I guess he’s still up there.”

Jeff swallowed hard. “Do we charge?”

Emma gave him a dry look. “Only if we want to die really fast.” She moved ahead of him, pulling a stake from her sleeve. “Stay behind me, okay? I’ll get him out of the way, then you get to the books and find what we need.”

Jeff nodded, holding onto the dagger like a lifeline.

They were in the corridor that led to the library when the doors burst open, and a tall, dark man dressed entirely in black strode out. He had a hook in place of a left hand and a dagger in his right hand.

Emma stopped short. “Seriously? That’s the look you’re going for? Black?”

The man stopped short, a slow grin spreading across his face, which was mottled with burns. “Well, well,” he said. “You must be this Slayer I keep hearing so much about.” He inclined his head, studying her with interest. “Skinnier than the last one I ran into. She had more to hold on to.”

“Not like you’re getting to do any holding this time,” she said with a sharp smile.

He shoved the dagger in his belt, then swept his hand around in a mocking bow. “If you don’t mind then, love, I have places to go, people to maim.”

“You’re not walking out of here,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

The vampire grinned at her. “And you’re going to stop me, little girl? When you’ve left your Watcher undefended and someone far worse is paying him a call?”

Emma stared at him, acid burning the back of her throat. “Jeff,” she said quietly. “Call Gold.” She didn’t need to look around, or check to know he was doing as he was asked, and she stalked towards the vampire. “You threatened my Watcher, Hook.”

He waved the hook. “Oh, imaginative, Slayer,” he said. “Can’t imagine how you came up with that.” He grinned unpleasantly at her. “He took my hand, your precious Watcher. About time he paid for it with interest.”

They were less than an arm’s length apart, and if anyone asked, Emma couldn’t have said who struck first, but it was a vicious fight. The vampire’s demon face came out, and he lashed at her as she brought a fist around in a savage punch that sent him spinning. He went to one knee, whirling on it and slicing at her legs with his hook.

The tip of the metal ripped through her pants and sliced across her leg, but she leapt out of reach of any lasting damage, using her momentum to flip, bringing her foot up in a merciless kick beneath his jaw that snapped his head back.

He snarled, catching her ankle, twisting her mid-flip and bringing her down hard on the ground. His other arm arced over, and she barely managed to twist aside, the hook sparking off the floor beneath her. He still had a grip of her ankle, and a kick with her other foot was blocked when he snatched that ankle out of the air, the metal of the hook cold and hard against her skin.

He tried to flip her onto her back, his body looming over her, and she used the momentum to bring her elbow up sharply into his face, stunning him enough to free her ankle and kick herself loose from his grip. 

They scrambled to their feet, circling one another, and he wiped blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

“Spirited, lass,” he growled, his tongue lapping along his burst lip. “I look forward to tasting you.”

“You can keep looking,” Emma snarled back, stake upraised.

“Emma!” Jeff called. “Gold’s okay! He got bit, but he killed the vampire!”

Emma’s eyes were on the black-clad vampire’s face, and she saw his expression change. His face was suddenly human once more, and for a split second, the emotions were so real and so raw, she could hardly believe he was a demon at all.

“Millie…”

The fight was forgotten and he knocked both Emma and Jeff flying, sprinting down the hall, his boots clattering on the floor. Emma picked herself up, wincing. She could feel blood soaking through her pants, and her body was aching.

“What was that about?” Jeff asked, as she hauled him to his feet. 

“She was important to him,” Emma said. She frowned, watching the vampire vanish. She knew she should go after him, finish him, but the people of Storybrooke needed more help than killing just one vampire. “C’mon. We need to find the book and get this stuff out of the water.”

“You need a hand?” Jeff offered quietly.

Emma ignored his hand, and forced herself to limp onwards. It wasn’t deep. There were worse things.

 

______________________________________________

 

The town had returned to its tedious self. Adults were adults once more. Whatever curse had been laid was broken. 

Killian paced back and forth across the floor of his benefactor’s home. He’d reached the Watcher’s shop, and found it empty. The smell of blood was ripe in the air. Old man Gold had left the building, bleeding.

He didn’t give a damn about that. He didn’t give a damn about whatever trinket they had been sent after there. He circled through the shop, the shattered glass crunching under his feet, and he saw what he feared was true. The dust lay thick on the floor. Her. Millie. She was dead and gone and dust at the Watcher’s hand.

He would have waited for Gold, but the Slayer was likely to return, so he had retreated to his benefactor. His part of the job was done. It should have been a victory in part, but without Millie to celebrate, it seemed hollow.

He whirled about and stalked across the room again, his hand twitching by his side. 

The Watcher did this.

Maybe she had been his wife once, but she had been Killian’s longer, and no one stole from Killian and lived to tell of it. He snarled, grabbing one of the crystal vases and hurling it across the room to shatter against the wall. 

“Temper, temper.”

Killian swung around, baring his teeth. He crossed the floor in four steps and grabbed the impudent mortal child who was the cause of it all by the throat. “I would advise you not to give me orders, little girl,” he growled.

She looked back at him, cold and contemptuous. “I didn’t kill your precious sidekick,” she said. “From what I hear, she was the one who tried to feed on him, instead of doing what she was meant to.”

Killian tightened his grip, growling low in his throat.

Her black eyes narrowed and his hand erupted in flame.

Killian dropped her, rearing back and shaking the flames out. “You caused this!”

“I pointed you in the right direction,” the girl said, picking herself off the floor. “You made the mistake of sending her after him. It was personal. Even I could see that.” She brushed herself down. “I didn’t pay you for a vendetta.”

Killian hurled another of the vases off the mantle, snarling.

The girl was silent for a moment, then asked. “Did you get what I asked?”

He reached inside his coat and withdrew a long, narrow bundle wrapped in cloth. “I always get what I’m asked for,” he said darkly. He threw it down on the table with a muted clatter. “You paid. I got it.”

“And the other item?”

He bared his teeth. “You think I was going to go through the shop with a Slayer on my tail and my partner dead?” He leaned over the back of the chaise, his eyes blazing. “I wasn’t about to get myself killed for you.”

The girl sat down and unwrapped the object he had stolen from the librarian’s safe. “Well, I suppose one out of two isn’t bad,” she said. She looked up at him. “You can keep all of the payment. I won’t be needing it back, and I suspect you want some kind of compensation for your loss.”

“You think money can replace…”

“I know it can’t,” she snapped. “But I didn’t pay your girlfriend to get personal, did I?” She snapped her fingers and the door flew open. “I won’t be needing you again, Jones.”

Killian bowed mockingly. “Very well, Miss Mills,” he said, smiling without showing his teeth. “I’ll look forward to never seeing you again.”

Regina smiled back at him just as coldly. “Good boy.”


	11. In Mommy's Shoes

The lights were off, and outside of the window, the sky was dark.

The streetlamps shone up through the glass and picked out pale highlights on books and candles. Bottles lined one of the shelves, filled with strange and unpleasant objects. The wooden floor still bore the traces of paint and blood.

A cautious hand opened the door of the room, as if the owner feared reprimand. It was a man, middle-aged, gently plump, and he looked around warily, but there was no sound, no response from within the room.

He closed the door behind him and hurried over to the shelves, a refuse sack held in one shaking hand. 

Books and bottles and boxes and artefacts were shoved into the sack. He was breathing hard and fast, and didn't seem to care if anything spilled or broke or burned, pushing item after item into the sack.

The door swung inwards with a crash.

The man whirled around, caught like a rabbit in the headlights as the light flooded the room from the hall. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway, a red jewel glittering at her throat, power glowing around her hands. 

"You know you're not allowed to touch my things, daddy," Regina said. 

 

________________________________________

 

 

Henry carried the tray carefully to the table. There was a teacup balanced on it and the tea slopped over the edges of the cup onto the saucer, despite his best efforts. He set the tray down and looked hopefully at Mr Gold.

"We'll make a waiter of you yet," Mr Gold said, taking the cup and saucer off the tray carefully with his good hand.

He was still covered in cuts and bruises after being beaten up by the lady - the vampire, he had later told Henry - and his left arm was in a tight bandage. It wasn't broken, but it was hurt, and Henry wanted to help as much as he could. 

"Do you want me to make you a sandwich?" Henry asked. "Or there are cookies. I can get you a cookie."

Mr Gold shook his head carefully. There was still a bandage on his neck where the vampire had bitten him. When he had come back to the shop with the lady, Henry had never been so scared. Mr Gold was sitting on the floor, his hand at his neck, blood running between his fingers. The lady - she said her name was Isabelle - took them to the hospital, and Mr Gold whispered to him that Henry was safe now.

Henry's nightmare had come back that night. Nightmares of leaving Mr Gold's house. Nightmares of being put back into care. Nightmares of being separated from Emma again.

Emma didn't know all of what happened in the shop. She knew that a vampire had come and she knew that Mr Gold killed her, but she didn't know that Henry had seen anything. She thought he was scared because Mr Gold had been beaten up by a burglar, and he didn't want her to know he knew about monsters. She wanted him to be safe, and if he knew about monsters and demons, then how could he be safe?

"If you'd like to have a cookie," Mr Gold said, "you can have one."

Henry bit his lip. Emma was strict about him not having food when no one was looking. She knew about his secret store and worried about it. She understood, but she worried. 

"Don't worry," Mr Gold said. "I'll let Emma know you had my permission."

Henry nodded, hurrying back to the kitchen. He took a cookie from the jar and filled a glass with milk. He returned to the table and sat down near Mr Gold, sipping the milk, and watching Mr Gold drink his tea.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally.

"I'm alive," Mr Gold said. "That's what matters."

Henry chewed on his cookie, watching him. "Who was Neal?" he asked quietly. He had been wondering for days, ever since the vampire had attacked them, but Emma was always around, and he didn't want to ask, in case Mr Gold didn't want to say.

Mr Gold turned the teacup in the saucer. "He was my son."

Henry looked down at the remains of his cookie, breaking it into three pieces, each one almost the same size as the other. "Was that his mom?" he asked quietly. "Is that what you were trying to keep him safe from?"

Mr Gold was quiet for so long, Henry wondered if he hadn't heard. Then he nodded. "It was," he murmured.

Henry wasn't good at grown-up problems, but he knew it had to be bad if your wife got turned into a monster. Especially when she tried to kill you. He pushed a piece of his cookie across the table to Mr Gold. "I'm sorry your wife was turned into a vampire."

Mr Gold picked up the piece of cookie. "I am too," he said. "Thank you."

Henry shrugged bashfully. "Are you going to tell Emma about Isabelle?" he asked, scooting his last two pieces of cooking around on the tabletop.

Mr Gold ate his cookie bit, a pensive look on her face. "Isabelle has her own secrets that she wants kept," he said. "She's seen a lot of bad things. I don't think she wants anyone to bring that back for her."

Henry could understand that. "She's nice," he offered.

Mr Gold smiled just a little bit. "She is," he said. 

 

 

__________________________________________

 

 

"I don't know if I should be doing this."

Emma turn Jeff back around to face the desk. "You said it yourself, we need to know who brought that water into Storybrooke," she said. The effects of the cursed water had worn off as fresh water hit the system, but they still had some saved in a bottle from the height of the curse. "You're always talking about the magic you've been trying out. You can do this."

Jeff laughed nervously. "You remember that way I'm prone to exaggeration?" he said, his voice shriller than Emma had ever heard it. "Theory and practise are very different."

"So you haven't been doing magic?"

Jeff pushed the spellbook away from him. "Well, not... exactly."

"How exactly is exactly?" Emma demanded.

"I looked at the books!" Jeff said, raising his hand to ward off her swat. 

"Jeff!"

He looked at her, wounded. "I never said I'd actually done anything!"

"What are you doing?"

Emma and Jeff both spun around, wary.

Regina was standing in the doorway, a crooked smile on her lips. "Working in the science lab at lunch time? Well, that's not at all suspicious."

Emma sighed. "We're still trying to find out who it was that cursed the water supply," she said. "If we find them, maybe we can find out why they came after Gold."

"And Miss French," Jeff added. "The library store was torn up, like they were looking for something she had in there."

Regina closed the door behind her. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," Emma said with a glower at Jeff, "I was hoping Mr I-know-magic here could have cast some kind of spell to track the source."

Regina looked at Jeff in surprise. "You can do that?"

"No," Jeff said sullenly. "Apparently, Slayers have selective hearing." He yelped when Emma punched him on the arm. "What? I never said I'd done any serious magic! You just assumed I had because I was reading up on it!"

Emma rubbed her eyes. "Okay. So we need to find someone who can do magic."

"I could."

Both Emma and Jeff looked at Regina in astonishment. 

"You could?" Emma said. "But after everything..."

Regina wrapped her arms across her middle. "We need to find who did this," she said. "I-I don't like it, but I can do it." She looked at the map spread on the table. "Is it just a basic tracking spell?"

Jeff nodded. "I've read up on them," he said. "I just don't know... how to do them. How to touch the magic. I can't make it work."

Regina nudged Jeff off the stool, sitting down and pulling the book closer. The pages were curled and ancient, and she traced her finger along the words. The book was written in Latin, and her lips moved soundlessly.

Emma rocked on the balls of her feet, watching. "Can you work with this one?" she asked finally, when Regina sat back from the book.

Regina looked up. "I think I can," she said. "We need some of the water that was charmed."

"Not a problem," Jeff said, pulling a bottle out of his rucksack. "As soon as knew it was cursed, I saved some up, just in case we could use it." He set it on the table and Regina pulled it closer. 

"Is that all?" she asked, looking up at him. "This spell might not work, and if we don't have anymore..."

"Best we can do is give it a try," Emma said. "It'll fade soon, and we need to find out who's done this."

Regina nodded. "I'll do what I can," she said. "Can you get me a bowl?"

A shallow basin was dug out of a cupboard and Regina stood up. She poured the water into the bowl, then went through Jeff's supplies, drawing out a pattern of signs and symbols around the map of the town. 

"I haven't done this exact spell before," she warned, picking up the book.

"That's okay," Jeff said. "It'd be better than me trying to read Latin out loud. The book would probably take offence and combust at my accent or something."

Regina's lips twitched. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Jeff wrinkled his nose. "Trust me, you don't wanna hear it," he said. He stepped back from the desk, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Do we need to do anything?"

Regina shook her head, spreading her fingers on the pages of the book. "Just watch the map," she said, and started to recite the words of the spell. 

 

____________________________________

 

"So nothing happened?" David ducked under a vampire's lunge, bringing a sword up in an arc that took its head off.

Emma caught another vampire the wrist, twisting it into a flip that brought it down hard on its back. "Nothing," she said, stabbing down with her stake. She didn't like patrolling with supervision, but Gold was wary about the missing vampire, and after the beating he'd almost given her, Emma wasn't keen to run into him again. 

Of all the people to tag along with her, David was the only one she trusted not to get himself killed or be eyed as bait.

It was true he ended up black and blue more often than she did, but he had a good arm and knew his way around weapons better than Jeff or Mary Margaret. 

"I thought Regina was meant to be good at that magic stuff," he said, as they continued on their way through the cemetery.

Emma glanced sidelong at him, as they returned to the path. "You do remember the last major spell she did had your sweetheart trying to kill any woman who looked at you?" She shook her head. "She's been off, ever since her mom..."

"Yeah," David said. "Stuff with parents..." He stopped short, mortified. "God, I'm sorry, Emma."

She snorted, kicking a piece of gravel along the path. "What? Because I don't have any?" She shrugged. "I'm used to it. Been that way a long time now."

"It sucks," he offered, unable to think of anything else to say.

She shrugged again, kicking the same pebble when they caught up with it. "We have a home here, for now," she said. She stopped suddenly, wary, looking around, and held up a hand to stop David in his tracks. 

He was an experienced enough hunter not to speak, and when she nodded ahead, he ran alongside her. There was a soft, muffled sound ahead of them, so quiet it was barely audible, then something fell out through the bushes.

A body.

It was a girl, young, pretty, and very clearly dead. 

"Come out," Emma growled.

She heard a chuckle behind them a moment before David cried out in pain. She spun around to see the pirate there, his hook cutting up under David's ribs. David's face was bone white, but he had grabbed the pirate's arm, holding it hard in place.

"Get out of here, Emma," he gasped out.

The vampire laughed, his other hand around David's throat. "Yes, run along, little girl. Don't need to be the hero."

Emma tightened her hand around the stake. "I was looking for you, Hook," she said, eyes flashing. "Let him go. We have unfinished business."

"Oh, I don't think so, love," he said, his eyes shimmering gold, his fangs bared. "I was thinking I might start killing your friends in front of you. Just a little repayment for that bastard of a Watcher of yours."

"Why would that bother him?" Emma said, moving from side to side, looking for an opening. David was sliding his hand towards his pocket, and she had no doubt he was armed, as long as the vampire was distracted and talking. "It's not like he cares about a bunch of schoolkids."

"No," the pirate grinned. "But you do. And he cares about you, love. Have no doubt about that." He pulled David back hard against his chest. "And you care about this one."

Emma moved a little closer. "Not especially," she said. "He's dating my friend. No big." David's hand was free from his pocket and he met Emma's eyes, jerked his chin down once. She took a step closer. "Do I look like I give a damn?"

The vampire leaned over David's shoulder. "Do I look like I'm caring?" he growled, lowering his head to bite, only for David to hurl the contents of a bottle up in his face. The vampire shrieked in pain and David doubled over the hook in his gut, holding him fast, as Emma brought one leg around in a roundhouse kick that shattered the vampire's teeth. 

David held onto the vampire's arm determinedly, as Emma used his back as a springboard, leaping up and over, landing behind the pirate, her arm curving downwards. The vampire dodged the stake blindly, jerking David along with him. David dropped, deadweight, cutting the vampire's pace and the pirate growled, jerking and twisting.

Emma kicked up hard under his chin, throwing him backwards, and he fell away from David, scrambling back across the ground, blood and saliva running down his face. He bared his teeth, before stumbling off into the bushes.

Emma ran back to David, who was curled on his side, groaning. "What the hell were you doing?" she demanded, staring in horror from the hook that was still latched into his gut. "He could have ripped you open!"

David gave her a watery grin. "Disarming him," he said. His teeth were pink. "I think I might need a doctor."

Emma nodded, sliding her arms underneath him. "I'll get you to the hospital," she promised. "Mary Margaret's going to kill me."

 

_____________________________________________

 

Jeff checked the books again.

He wasn't usually so obssessive with the details, but if he was going to go around accusing people, he wanted to be sure. Especially when the person he was accusing could kick his ass in all kinds of personal and social ways. 

He didn't want to think he was being paranoid, but old habits died hard.

Emma had gone to the hospital with Mary Margaret, which meant he wouldn't blurt out his suspicions before he'd had them confirmed, but years of experience were screaming in him. He didn't want to think that was tainting his judgement. 

All the same, the books seemed to confirm what he was suspecting.

He gathered them up and shoved them in a rucksack, heading to the Antique shop, calling ahead to let Gold know they needed to talk. The place was still a mess, and he knew Gold had plans to have the damage repaired, but the back of the shop was still intact, so Jeff headed in there to wait. 

It was late enough that Henry was in bed, and Gold came down the stairs to meet him.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked. He was still a mess after the beating he had taken, and Jeff wondered if Emma had let him know about David yet. Probably. She was good at reporting to her Watcher.

Jeff laid out the books on the desk. "I think I know who cast the enchantment last week," he said. 

Mr Gold stared at him, then approached to look down at the books. "And who might that be?"

Jeff hesitated, his mouth dry. "Regina Mills."

The Watcher sat down on the stool by the desk, looking from the books to Jeff. "From what I have heard from Miss Swan," he said. "Miss Mills has been subdued and withdrawn since the incident with her mother."

"Subdued and withdrawn, yeah," Jeff agreed, "but she screwed up the tracking spell on purpose."

Gold's brow furrowed. "What makes you think so?" he said.

Jeff pointed out the passages. "She changed the wording here," he said. "Even though she was reading straight from the book. She changed it and I saw her cast a cantrip, when she thought I was looking at the map. An obscuring charm." He looked up at Gold. "Why would she do that, if she wasn't hiding something?"

"If that's the case," Gold murmured. "If she sent those thieves, what was she looking for?"

Jeff shrugged. "Do you have anything magical here?"

Gold snorted. "Of course I do," he said. "I'm a Watcher. You would need to be a little more specific."

"Hey, I found out who's double-crossing us," Jeff said indignantly. "I can't be work-things-out-guy all the time." He frowned at the books. "If we asked her, she would deny it."

"Yes," Gold murmured. "There's only one person who can confirm whether she was the one responsible for the attempted robbery."

"The vampire?"

Gold nodded. "Assuming that she dealt with them firsthand," he said. "She may not have done so, but someone paid them and would have paid them well. Even if we can't confirm it was her, we need to find out what they were looking for. That might give us a reason."

"What are you going to do?" Jeff said sarcastically. "Just invite the vampire around for tea and a nice little chat?"

Gold gazed at him, his expression cool. "Something of the sort."

 

______________________________________________

 

 

The office was brightly lit, morning sunlight pouring through the windows. The desk it fell upon was broad and grand, the oak gleaming. Its owner was sitting at it, his pen scratching on sheets of paper, and he looked up when there was a tap at the door.

"Mr Mayor," one of his aides poked her head around the door. "You have a visitor. I know you had a space in your schedule..."

"But he'll be glad to see me." The door was pushed wider and a young woman walked in with all the confidence of the young and all the arrogance of an age she certainly did not possess. The Mayor's aide looked frantically at him.

Mayor Spencer laid down his pen. "I believe I can spare a moment for a future voter," he said, waving the aide away. The door closed behind her quietly, and George Spencer gazed placidly at the young woman who was circling his office. "How can I help you?"

She lifted down an ornament from the cabinet, some trophy or award or other. He hardly remembered anymore. "My mother has spoken about you quite often, Mayor Spencer," she said, turning the polished object over in her hand. "She said that you're a powerful man."

Spencer smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, I am Mayor."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "That's not what I meant."

He rose from behind the desk. "And what do you mean, Miss Mills?"

Her red lips curved up in a smile. "Oh, you know who I am, do you?" She turned, and the pulse of power at her throat drew his eye. There was a pendant on a fine gold chain, resting against her chest, deep, blood red. 

He returned his eyes to hers. "I'm beginning to believe so," he said. "What do you want?"

She smiled, sitting down smoothly in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk, crossing one leg over the other. "As I said," she said, "you're a powerful man, and powerful people tend to have enemies."

He remained standing. "Is that a threat?"

She shrugged. "It depends," she said. "Do you want it to be?"

He braced his hands on the desk. “What are you doing here?” he said. “I’m in no mood for games, and you certainly aren’t in the right place to cause me problems.”

“You have a Vampire Slayer in town.”

The Mayor gazed at her, then sat back down in his chair. “I have been made aware of the fact,” he acknowledged. He folded his hands on the desk. “I suppose you are also going to offer me some weakness that I can utilise.”

Regina Mills smiled at him. “She considers me a friend,” she said, “of a kind. What would you give to have a pair of eyes inside her circle?”

Spencer gazed at her thoughtfully. “You say she trusts you?”

“She’s starting to,” Regina replied. “There was an incident with a mirror. An unfortunate situation, but nothing that is causing too many problems.” She smiled again. “She’s sure I’m just a helpless little victim in need of rescuing.”

Spencer picked up his pen, twisting it between his fingers. “And what are you?”

She smiled her red-lipped smile. “Useful.”

He studied her for a moment more, then turned his attention back to his paperwork. She was clearly a clever woman, bright enough to know when to sit still and wait patiently, and to see that his note-making was merely a front for thought.

Finally, he set the pen down.

“What would be your price for this… observation?”

She laughed. “Don’t imagine I don’t know what’s coming,” she said. “I want to live. I want my family to live.”

The Mayor steepled his fingers together. “And why do you believe these eyes of yours will be useful to me? After all, a Slayer is a Slayer, regardless of who knows about it. They tend to… interfere.”

“She isn’t working alone,” Regina said, leaning forward, hands resting on her knee. “I can let you know about allies. Like David Nolan.”

Spencer’s jaw clenched and his mouth turned in a sharp smile. “I know of the boy. A demon hunter, as I recall. On a wild vengeance crusade. Something to do with his mother’s untimely demise.” He leaned back in his chair. “You say he’s working with the Slayer now?”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement, they seem to think.” Regina rose and smoothed her skirt down. “Consider that my show of faith, Mr Mayor. If you’re interested in knowing more, you know where I can be contacted.”

“I have your number,” he said, watching her as she walked to the door. “Tell me, my dear, who should I ask for?”

Regina smiled at him and it didn’t reach her eyes. “You know exactly who.”

 

 

_____________________________________________

 

Gold sat by the window in the bistro. 

He wondered if painting a sign that said "trap" over his head would be less subtle. He was hardly a showy man, and especially not when he was using what could be construed as a date as bait for a trap. 

Privately, he hadn’t believed Isabelle would agree, but whatever the pirate stole from her was quite precious. She was adamant that she was not afraid to face the vampire, because he was the only one who knew where her trinket had gone. She wouldn’t say what it was, only that it was private and valuable to her.

Gold knew that Jones would be out for vengeance. Emma had informed him of as much. If Jones believed he had a new love interest - even the tentative hints of such - he would try and take that from him at once.

He looked around as the door opened again and managed a quick smile. Isabelle French saw him at once and hurried over, shedding her coat and draping it over the back of the chair opposite him.

“Thank you for coming,” he said formally, feeling himself flush when she leaned over to kiss him quickly on the cheek.

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, blue eyes dancing. “It’s almost as if we’re on a real date, isn’t it?”

It was ridiculous how dry his mouth went in her presence. “Please,” he said, motioning to the seat. “Sit down.” He waited until she was seated, then sat himself, taking one of the menus. “If we’re going to make a display of this charade, we should do it properly.”

“Shame,” she said, opening her own menu.

He raised his eyes to look across at her. “Oh?”

She offered a small, delightful smile. “I thought you might actually like to be on a date with me, but no. Just business.”

Gold stared at her blankly.

Isabelle smiled serenely as if she hadn’t just pulled his world out from beneath his feet.

They ordered. No. She ordered. Gold wasn’t a fussy eater and it seemed the polite thing to do after suggesting spending time with her was a hardship. She picked out meals that could be shared, and a wine that wasn’t too expensive, but expensive enough to let him know she was planning on entirely taking advantage of his sheepish state. 

He wasn’t quite sure how they ended up talking about the events of the previous week. She had faced Milah, shot her too, and he hadn’t the nerve to lie to her about who the vampire was to him. He asked after her wounded arm. She said it was healing. They made small talk about the nature of the Slayer.

Yet neither of them deigned to ask anything about the other’s past.

She didn’t ask, he guessed, because she had seen his wife as a vampire, which could only suggest that his life had been bad. He, on the other hand, found any attempts to make inquiries as to her knowledge of demons and magic were gently diverted. It was skilfully done, he had to admit, distracting him with literature, history, art, anything that meant his focus was not on her or her past.

They talked and laughed more readily as the wine flowed, and by the time they realised how late it was, the restaurant was closing up. Gold was more than happy to cover all expenses - it was only polite when one was using a lady as bait - and Isabelle smiled warmly as she put on her coat.

“I hope it wasn’t too much of a trial,” she said with mock-innocence. “Suffering my company for three hours.”

“If that was a trial,” he said, as the waiter bustled off with his credit card, “I think I would like to book myself in for regular torture.”

She blushed and it brought an even brighter light to her eyes. “I’m sure I could manage that,” she said, as she did up the buttons of her coat. “Less bait, next time, and more man and woman, though?”

He felt he was smiling like a fool. “I can do that,” he agreed. He rose from his chair. “I am sorry it did have to be under these circumstances.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “What’s life without a little danger?” she said. She searched his face. “You’re sure you’ll be safe?”

“We have protection charms on the shop now, to keep him at bay,” Gold said. “What about you?”

There was something quiet and furtive about her smile “I have ways of keeping myself safe,” she replied.

She was the one to drive them home, though her small yellow beetle wasn’t a car made for comfort for a man with a bad knee. She apologised, but he waved it away, smiling, admiring her determination to keep a car that should have been on the scrapheap on the road.

Gold looked out at the shop, then back at the woman in the driving seat. "Thank you," he said with a genuine smile. "Tonight was... nice."

Isabelle gazed at him, then leaned across the gearstick. "I think I can do better than nice," she said, and kissed him. He would have had to have been a stronger man than he was to resist her, leaning into her kiss. 

She drew back, her cheeks flushed and her lips pleasantly swollen.

"There. Better?"

He chuckled. "I would say so," he said. "You're sure you'll be all right on your own?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied, then added with a touch of mischief, "Unless you're asking me in for coffee."

He blushed, and she saw it, and laughed again.

"I'll call you," he said. "Be safe."

"I always am," she replied with a smile, as he got out of the car. She waited until he was in the shop before driving away in the direction of her own home. 

Her house was on the outskirts of town, secluded to the point that hardly anyone even remembered it was there. It was grand and it was beautiful, much too large for just one person, but it was hers, and she had no intentions of leaving it for something more practical.

Isabelle parked the car in the garage, and rather than going into the house itself, she walked down to a swing that was suspended from a tree in the grounds. It had been an indulgence given to a frightened child, many years before, and she swung slowly back and forth and waited. 

She didn't have to wait long.

Somewhere nearby, a stick cracked underfoot.

Isabelle pushed her feet against the ground, slowing the swing, but she didn't turn.

"I wondered when you'd show up," she said.

"Is that so?" He could only be a dozen paces behind her, his voice low but clearly audible.

She nodded, rising from the swing. "We put on a show for you," she said. "But you made a mistake coming here."

The vampire's features were demonic, his golden eyes burning. "People always tell me that," he said, grinning unpleasantly. He started towards her.

Isabelle held up a hand. "Stop."

The look of shock and panic on the vampire's face was almost worth it when his feet froze to the spot. He looked down, startled, then back at her, baring cracked and broken teeth. "You little witch!"

Isabelle put her hands in her pockets, approaching him. "No," she said. "I'm not a witch." She smiled at him briefly. "You came onto my land, into the place where nothing and no one can harm me." She stopped less than a foot in front of him. He tried to grab at her, but it looked like his hands were repelled. "A deal was struck a long time ago that I would be safe here, and I'm still protected, vampire, by something a lot more powerful than you."

He recoiled, and seemed relieved that he could actually move backwards. "What the hell are you?"

She shrugged. "Just a girl," she said, "who you stole from. I want you to give back what's mine."

The vampire snorted. "No can do, love," he said. "I was commissioned. I was paid. I did the job and I got the money. Your little... toy is no longer in my possession."

Isabelle's teeth clenched together. "That's unfortunate," she said. "But you can at least do me the courtesy of telling me who paid you."

"Ha!"

The librarian sighed. "I hoped you wouldn't say that," she said. 

 

___________________________________________

 

"This is getting nowhere," Emma sighed in frustration.

Jeff looked up from the computer screen. "We've narrowed the field," he said. He was running searches for all known artefacts of mystical significance that were in Storybrooke, alongside a sweep of the items on Gold's inventory. 

"There's got to be something we're missing," Mary Margaret said. She was sifting through files, looking over the records of the pirate's previous crimes. She was pale with shadows under her eyes, exhausted, but determined to work on the paperwork.

David Nolan was being kept sedated in the hospital after surgery. He was going to live, but sedation was considered necessary given his need to get out of bed to try to help while reeling on pain medication. The last Mary Margaret had seen of him, he was burbling quietly about fighting the bad things, before he drifted to medicated sleep. 

Emma flopped down onto the stool by Gold's desk. He was out for the night, so they had taken over the back of the store. "What do we know?"

"The Pirate and his partner-in-crime..."

"The Pirate Queen," Mary Margaret put in, looking up from the files.

"Yeah," Jeff said, "Her. They've been gaining a reputation for years. A couple of months ago, they committed a robbery, stole something, killed a hacker, and then showed up in Storybrooke."

"Why did they come here?" Emma asked. "Do they work to orders?"

Mary Margaret leafed through some paperwork. "From the looks of things, people hire them to steal valuable magical artefacts from public places," she said, looking up. "Guess they can't really rob homes, with the need for invitation."

"So someone invited them to Storybrooke." Emma pushed off from the stool, pacing around the room. "They were here for weeks, then someone got them to rob Miss French and Mr Gold."

They all turned at the tap of Gold's cane at the doorway. For once, his hair was dishevelled and his clothing rumpled, but he didn't seem to notice. He looked from one face to the other, eyebrows rising. 

"Dare I ask?"

"Research party," Mary Margaret said, rubbing her face. "We're trying to confirm who hired the pirate."

Gold's eyes flicked to Jeff. "So you told them?"

Emma wheeled around. "Told us? Told us what?"

Jeff looked like a rabbit in the headlights. "I-I..."

"Jeff," Emma growled. "What do you know?"

"I think it's Regina."

Emma stared at him in disbelief. "Regina? Are you joking? You've seen what a mess she's in!"

"I know!" Jeff exclaimed, raising his hands defensively. "But she messed up the spell! She isn't trying to help us."

Emma shook her head. "I can't believe that," she said. "You didn't see her trapped in that basement. You didn't see how scared she was." She glared at Jeff. "You've never liked her, have you?"

"That's nothing to do with this!" Jeff exclaimed. "I know you saved her, but that doesn't make her a good person!"

"And all those times I saved you?" She threw up her hands angrily. "So she screwed up a spell? So what!"

"Miss Swan," Gold said quietly. "This is hardly the same thing. Regina has been known to make mistakes with magic before, but Jeff knows what he saw."

"Or what he thinks he saw," Emma snapped. "Don't think you know what it's like to be treated like she was treated. You didn't see what her mother did to her."

"Emma," Mary Margaret said quietly. 

"Don't you start on me too!" Emma said, whirling on her, jabbing a finger at her accusingly.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "I'm not," she said. She held out a file. "They could be right, but not in the way they think."

Emma stared at the file, then took it, looking at the image pinned there. "I know about this," she said, her voice clipped. "It's the Heart. Gold told me about it when the pirate stole it. Something about dark magic and being used to control people." She held the folder back out to Mary Margaret. "So what?"

"So," Mary Margaret said, looking up at her, "Regina's been wearing it for the last two weeks."

 

____________________________________________

 

"You can't go up there! Please!"

Regina opened her eyes. She was kneeling at the centre of the pentagram, blood marked on her brow, her heart, and painted on the gem at her throat. The ritual was a complex one, and she could not spare any magic for defences, not when she needed all her power to complete the binding. 

Henry would have to be enough. 

Daddy.

No, dear, Henry.

She picked up the pure white candle, lighting from the black candle in front of her. The wax dripped dark and red as the blood on her skin. She looked up at the mirror that stood before her, the mirror that had been her cage. The binding would sever her link with it, if only she could bend Regina's will to release her fully.

The child was insolent, but also unaware of just how powerful she was capable of being. 

She distantly heard the sound of flesh meeting floor.

Daddy!

Cora stared out through her daughter's eyes at their shared reflection. "Hush, dear," she whispered, her hand tightening around the candle.

The door crashed inwards, Emma Swan caught in the shattered frame.

"Let her go."

"What's wrong, Emma?" Cora asked, tugging her daughter's voice into obediance.

The Slayer stalked into the room. She was armed, and she looked furious. "I know what's going on."

"Oh, I don't imagine you do," Cora said. It was a regretable waste of power, but she gestured, a simple spell that should have sent the Slayer flying. She didn't. She remained standing, steely-eyed and grim.

"Your tricks don't work today," she said, stalking closer. An amulet hung around her neck, a powerful one. She kicked over the candles as she came, wax and flame cutting into the pentagram, the power fizzling out. What parts of the spell had been cast already faded, and Cora rose furiously.

"You stupid girl! You don't know what you've done."

Emma strode closer and punched her hard across the face, knocking her to her knees. "I don't need to," she growled. She reached down and grabbed the necklace by the chain. It crackled and sparked, searing her hand, and she bared her teeth.

"No!" Cora screamed, grabbing her arm.

"Is that what your daughter said?" Emma's eyes blazed and she jerked her arm. 

The chain snapped and Regina slumped to the floor, trembling. "Don't touch!" she gasped out. "The jewel! Don't touch it!"

"Trust me," Emma said darkly, "I know." She looked up at the mirror. "Can you open the mirror again?"

"Wh-why?"

Emma swung the chain. "To put this where she can't use it," she said.

Regina pushed herself onto her knees, crawling to the mirror, and braced her hands against the frame. She was shaking hard and blood trickled from her nose. She shook her head. "Don't have power. Not strong enough."

Emma approached her. "Can I help?"

Regina looked up at her fearfully. "How?"

"You said you could draw power from Daniel. Take some from me. Help me finish this."

Regina paled. "But it could hurt you, like it hurt him."

Emma put her hand on Regina's shoulder. "I don't believe that," she said quietly. "I trust you."

Regina stared at her, then nodded. "Just enough," she whispered, lowering her head. "I'll take just enough." She could hear the screams from within the glass, could feel her mother's rage and despair, but pushed it aside, reaching for Emma's strength to make them safe, to close the door.

The Slayer's power washed through her so powerfully that she gasped aloud and the door flew wide.

"Now!"

Emma hurled the necklace through the rippling glass, and before anything - anyone - could come back through, Regina slammed the connection down with every bit of the power coursing through her. She sagged forward against the glass, panting. 

"Is that it?" Emma asked, looking uncertainly at the glass.

"Almost," Regina whispered. 

She stumbled upright, and grabbed one of the heavy metal candlesticks. She stared at the mirror, her mirror, and swung the candlestick as hard as she could. The mirror splintered and she hit it again, and again, until it shattered, bits of glass raining onto the floor. 

Emma stood by, watching impassively, until Regina dropped the candlestick at her feet.

"We're done," Regina panted.

 

_______________________________________________

 

 

"What are you doing here?"

Isabelle French turned, startled, at Gold's voice. "Augustus?"

Mr Gold stepped out of the shadows of one of the hedges, gazing at her. "Did you know?" he asked, his expression cold and suspicious. "Did you know the woman here was the one to hire the vampire?"

She barely moved, barely breathed. "Not until a little while ago," she said quietly. "Is she in there? Your Slayer?"

He inclined his head. "Dealing with the woman controlling the child."

Isabelle's breath caught. "I thought it wasn't the girl," she said. "It didn't seem possible."

"How very clever of you," Gold said. He wasn't the same man she had spent so many hours smiling with, only a couple of hours earlier. "And would you have informed us of this little development? Or is this all about getting your possession back?"

"I would have told you," she said without defiance. "But I had to find it first."

"What's so important that you would have faced a powerful witch on her own territory?" he asked sharply, and only then could she see how deeply her secrecy had wounded him. "What could possibly hold so much value to you?"

Isabelle's hands curled into fists by her side. "Something that needs to be protected," she said quietly. "Something that could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And you won't tell me what it is? Am I the wrong hands? Am I a threat in your eyes?"

"Augustus..." she protested.

"What is this thing you're looking for?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you," she said quietly. "There are... so many reasons I can't tell you."

His features looked years older, and he drew himself up. "I'm afraid you're too late," he said. "The witch you wanted, the one who had possession of your object has been taken care of. She won't be able to tell you anything anymore."

Isabelle's legs trembled beneath her and she looked up at the house. "No," she said. "I have to get it back. You don't know how much trouble there could be..."

He shook his head. "Miss Swan was dealing with the matter," he said quietly, grimly. "I am only waiting here to be sure that it's finished with."

"It might not..." She ran by him and towards the house, only to see the door open. The Slayer emerged, blood on her hands, and a stony expression on her face. Isabelle stopped dead, her stomach turning on itself. "No."

"Sorry, dear," Gold said dispassionately. "It looks like you're too late."

She turned blazing eyes on him. "You don't know what this could mean," she whispered. "If this comes back on you and the Slayer, don't say I didn't warn you." She pushed by him, hurrying back down the path, pausing close to the gate. "Oh, and if you cared at all, your trap worked. Your precious vampire came after me."

She saw his face pale, and turned before he could ask what happened, before he could see the distress on her face as she walked away.

 

_______________________________________________

 

Regina was sleeping, curled up like a child in her bed, herself again.

Her father drew the blankets more snugly over her, as if that could make amends for the hurt her mother had put her through. He bowed over her and kissed her brow gently. She didn't even stir, exhausted.

Henry Mills made his way through the house.

He was nursing a spread of bruises on his torso and head, where Miss Swan had been... determined to get to his wife's magic chamber, but all things considered, they were worth it to have Regina back, healthy, whole. 

He made his way along the hall to the room in question. 

It looked like a disaster area. The doorframe was shattered beyond repair and would need replaced. Regina's old mirror was in a thousand pieces on the floor. Wax and blood spilled in dark and light spatters across the scored wood.

He couldn't and wouldn't let her deal with all again, he decided. 

This room would be cleared out and emptied and never used again for magic or anything else.

He went to the kitchen, fetching the broom and shovel, and set to work cleaning up the mess. Candles were tossed in the trash. He gathered up the books into boxes. Finally, he started sweeping up the broken mirror.

It got everywhere, even in the cracks between the floorboards.

He knelt down to sweep around the ruined frame, bracing his hand against the edge of the frame. There was a sharp sting and he turned over his hand, startled to see blood welling up. Pieces of glass, so small he had barely noticed them, must have been clinging to the frame. He dusted his hands together to brush them away, and his hand throbbed, fresh blood welling.

He started to rise, but his head suddenly felt light.

Don't worry, dear, a voice whispered across his mind. I'll take care of you.


	12. Work in Progress

It was raining, which meant the streets were deserted.

Billy used the pry bar to wedge the window open.

Normally, he didn't dare hide out in buildings, but the weather had turned bad, and he didn't want to get sick again. Some of the old stores down town had basements that their owners didn't even know about, and it was all that a street kid needed on a wet night. 

He clambered in through the window, dropping down into the quiet darkness. His hand got caught as the window fell closed, and he swore, pulling it free. His knuckles were cut and bleeding. Billy licked them clean and shoved his hand in his pocket, then looked around. 

It was some kind of craft store. He could smell paint and varnish, and it was dry and just a little warm. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out objects hung from the ceiling, boxes on shelves, masks. Maybe a costume shop? He didn't know.

Billy crept towards the smallest, darkest corner, making sure he still had a clear path to the window for the morning. Sometimes, people weren't too happy to find an unexpected lodger. He took off his wet coat and curled up tight on a heap of canvas, closing his eyes.

He didn't know what it was that woke him, but it was pitch dark when he jolted upright. A hand caught him by the shoulder and he felt something jab into his neck. His cry for help died in his throat as his limbs went limp. His eyes darted around wildly, but he couldn't move, not his arms, not his legs, not his tongue.

A flashlight was switched on and the beam of light shone into his eyes.

"Not quite right." The voice above him was hoarse, sounded barely human. "But worth a try."

He saw the knife flash by the torchlight and silently screamed.

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

"Ow!"

Emma leaned against the counter, watching Gold stitching up Jeff's arm. "You okay?"

Jeff was staring determinedly at a bottle of some kind of shimmering potion, trying to ignore what was being done. "Just tell me when it's OW!"

"If you stopped flinching," Gold said impatiently, "we would be done by now."

"It hurts!"

"It's barely a scratch," Gold said. "Miss Swan, would you hold him still? It's that or we send him to the hospital."

Jeff shook his head hastily. "No hospital," he said. "I can sit still."

Gold made a doubtful sound, but returned his attention to Jeff's arm.

"You shouldn't have done that," Emma said finally, pushing off from the counter. "You're not meant to get involved in the demon-fighting." Jeff looked away from her mutinously, his hands balled up in fists in his lap. "I'm the Slayer and you're not."

"If I hadn't got in the way," he said, "it would have got you."

"Maybe," Emma said, wrapping her arms around her middle, "but I can heal fast. You can't. I can't babysit you all the time we're out there, Jeff. You've been bitten once, and now this. How long is it going to be before you get seriously hurt? Or killed?"

He looked up at her. "What about you?"

Emma's eyes narrowed. "What about me?"

"Tread carefully," Gold murmured, playing a strip of gauze over the stitches, and wrapping a bandage around them.

"Just because you can heal doesn't mean you should let yourself get so beat up," Jeff replied, his voice rising furiously. "You think I don't notice? That we don't notice? Just because you pretend you're okay doesn't mean you're not hurt, Emma."

Her expression hardened. "I think you should leave," she said. "You already got hurt once tonight. You don't want it to happen again."

Jeff took a step towards her, but Gold laid a hand on his arm, stopping him. 

"Enough," he murmured. "Can you get yourself home?"

Jeff glanced at Emma, then nodded. "Her shoulder," he said in a low voice. "It hurt her shoulder."

Emma was silent until Jeff was gone and the door closed after him. She didn't turn or look at Gold. "Why do you send him out with me?" she demanded, her voice tight with pain and frustration.

"You know why."

She wheeled around, glaring at him. "So I have something to protect? You think I need motivation? After everything that happened in the last few weeks? Believe me, I know how important it is to protect people, but I…"

Gold rose, leaning on his cane. "Not quite, dearie," he said. "I think you'll find it's the other way around."

She searched his face. "Huh?"

"Mr Hatley might not be the most sensible person in the world," Gold said, "but he watches well. You forget your limitations when you are worried, Miss Swan. You may be strong, you may heal, but you are still mortal, and he reminds you of that."

"So he's what? My babysitter?" she demanded angrily. "You think I can't hold back?"

Gold looked at her. "I know you can't," he said. "Why do you think I wanted to see how you fought? Every time something happens, something you feel is your responsibility, you become almost vengeful in your need to defeat it. You fight until you are exhausted, until you're becoming vulnerable. You're so determined to stop all that's wrong in this town, that you would do it until you killed yourself."

"Bullshit!"

Gold inclined his head, watching her. "Fact," he said. "You were unable to strike at Regina’s mother, but you feel the need to protect everyone else now regardless. You don't care if you are damaged by your battles, as long as they are won. Do you really have so little regard for your own well-being?"

Her arms tightened around her middle. "I'm a Slayer," she said flatly. "You know what that means. Fighting the darkness for as long and as hard as I can, and keeping Henry safe."

"And staying alive," he murmured. "It's all well and good trying to protect Henry, but you have to think of yourself sometimes as well."

"I'm still standing," she said through clenched teeth. "If my Slaying isn't good enough, you can stick your nose in, but don't think you know me, Gold." She shoved her way by him and stalked to the stairs, where she paused. "Jeff's documentary show stops now. I go, I fight, I come home, I debrief. Anything else is none of your business."

Gold's expression was set, but he inclined his head. "As you wish," he said. "But you aren't as alone as you seem to believe you are."

Emma stared at him for a long while, then turned and silently walked up the stairs.

 

 

_____________________________________________________

 

"She won't let you go anymore?"

Jeff nodded, scowling at the piece of wood he was planing. "Mr Gold says it's probably better to let her cool off, but you've seen what she's like when she's fighting."

Mary Margaret was silent for a moment. "Do you think she'd let someone else go?" she asked, setting down her ruler.

With all the noise of the woodshop, they didn't have to keep their voices down. It wasn't a compulsory class, but Jeff liked putting things together and Mary Margaret's father insisted that she do at least one practical course in her curriculum. He expected it to be some kind of cookery or arty class, so out stubbornness, she chose wood shop.

Jeff shook his head, unscrewing the vice and laying the wood down on the workbench. "She doesn't want 'civilians' hanging around."

"She said that?" Mary Margaret said, biting her lip. "She must be mad."

Jeff nodded. He looked miserable. "She needs someone there," he said. "She'll get herself hurt without someone to watch out for her. She’s been getting so caught up in fighting, she doesn't watch her back."

Mary Margaret nudged his shoulder with hers. "She just needs some time," she said. "Time to get her head together." She glanced towards the door, then back at him. "You think she'll be in class today?"

Jeff shrugged, picking up one of the drills and examining it. "We don't know she survived last night," he said. 

"Jeff!"

He looked at her sheepishly. "I didn't mean that," he said, but Mary Margaret wasn't looking at him. He followed her gaze and rolled his eyes. "Of course."

Mary Margaret was blushing and tucked feathery strands of her hair behind her ear. "Hey, David."

David smiled quickly at her, then leaned closer. "Is Emma around?"

Jeff glanced at Mary Margaret, then back. "Is this work-related?"

David nodded. "A body was found," he said quietly. "Down in the old part of town, where all those old-fashioned stores are."

"Vampire?" Mary Margaret whispered.

David shook his head. "Something else," he said. "It was badly mutilated, according to the police."

Mary Margaret's hand leapt to her mouth. "Demon, then?" she whispered.

"Something nasty," David said.

"Such as being in a class that you are not enrolled in?"

Jeff yelled in surprise, spinning around with a file upraised.

Mr Giuseppe looked at him, amusement crinkling the lines around his eyes. "You are very nervous today, Mr Hatley," he said, his accent drawling over the vowels. Mary Margaret was always curious why an Italian would choose Storybrooke of all places to live. He looked at David. "You are not in this class, I think?" David glanced at Mary Margaret and the old teacher chuckled. "Ah. Love. It will make you break the rules." He waved a gnarled hand. "Away with you. You have recess for romance."

"He's not here for romance." Mary Margaret was blushing furiously as David hurried away. "He was looking for someone."

"Mm. And I think he found you," Mr Giuseppe said. He turned his attention to Jeff. "Your work is going well."

Jeff tapped the wood. "It's not going far. I can't get it to plane evenly."

Their teacher smiled crookedly. "You must practise," he said. "My son, he is the same. He says he cannot do something if it is hard. He gives up to easily." He looked at Jeff sternly. "Do not give up easily. If you want to make this thing, then you must work hard."

"I didn't know you had a son, Mr Giuseppe," Mary Margaret said. 

For a moment, the man looked even older, his thin face going hollow. "He is gone now," he said. "For a long time." He smiled briefly. "But it is still a lesson for another boy, just like him." 

"I'm going to finish it," Jeff insisted. "I'm not about to give up on it."

Giuseppe's face broke into a smile. "Good boy!" he declared. He tapped Jeff in the middle of the chest. "I can teach you better, if you want to work hard. If you have time, if you can give blood and sweat and tears, I will open the classroom for you before school and after, and you can finish it."

Jeff's face lit up. "Really? I want to get it done in time to be a birthday gift."

Giuseppe nodded solemnly. "I will do this," he said and patted Jeff on the shoulder. "For you." He shook his head, a distant, pensive look in his eyes. "He would be like you, I think. He was the same age as you are now. With the same eyes. The same mischief." He moved off to break up a fight at the belt sander.

"Poor man," Mary Margaret said quietly. "It must be awful to lose a child."

"Hey, if old memories mean I get to finish Emma's birthday present in time, I'm fine with that."

Mary Margaret punched him on the arm, making him exclaimed in protest. "He's a lonely old man and you're taking advantage!"

"No," Jeff corrected, waving the file at her. "He's a lonely old teacher and I'm getting extra credit."

Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes, you're not a very nice person."

Jeff grinned. "No," he said, "but I am full of mischief."

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes and returned to her work.

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

Emma made her way down the alley where the body was found. 

Gold was waiting to hear from his contact at the coroner's office, but what they heard so far suggested that something bad was on the loose: the body of a young man had been found behind a dumpster in one of the more picturesque parts of Storybrooke. The cause of death had not been reported, but according to a witness at the scene, 'parts' were missing. 

It would have been easier to go searching during the day, but the police were all over the alley, and by the time they left, Emma had to be home to make sure Henry got back from school. They had dinner with Gold, even though she still was making it clear she wasn't in the mood to talk to Gold, helped her brother with his homework, and when he went to bed, she went downtown.

The crime scene tape marked the spot, and she ducked under it, switching on her flashlight.

There was a lot of blood, but not enough for him to have died behind the dumpster, which meant he had to have come from nearby. Close enough that they were able to move a fatally wounded body without leaving a trail but far enough that the cooling body would have time to leave a bloody puddle.

Emma looked around, searching the ground with the flashlight, letting it trail across the ground, and up the walls.

The buildings were nice around here, clean and painted back and front. They even had fancy dark beams and shutters on the windows. There was a reason the whole area was called the Candy Box. 

That was why a dark stain under one of the window caught her eye.

Emma glanced across then crossed the alley to the low window. There were chips out of the paint in the window frame, and a smear of blood. She tilted the beam of light. It almost looked like four faint fingerprints pressed on the window ledge. From inside the building.

"Huh," Emma murmured. "Strange." 

She turned to tell Jeff, then remembered that for the fourth night in a row, she was alone. It wasn't that she was missing him. Definitely not. She worked alone, and she liked working alone. But on nights like this, when there were things to be found, it was more interesting to find them with somebody.

She nudged at the gutter below the window and found the broken remains of a pry bar.

So someone had been breaking into the Candy Box?

Emma switched off the flashlight, shoving it in her pocket, and eased the edge of the pry bar under the window. It opened with a groan, and she froze, but no one called out and no lights went on in the nearby buildings. Stores, she reminded herself. No one would be in them at this time of night.

She lifted the window open as high as she could and slid through it, landing in the darkness. She wedged the pry bar under the edge of the window to keep it open, then took out the flashlight, flicking it on. 

A grinning face loomed out of the darkness.

"Gah!" Emma stumbled back, then caught herself. The face wasn't moving. She stepped forward, then breathed out a sigh of relief. It was just a carved mask.

She looked around the rest of the room. She could smell paint, and there were bundles of fabric in one corner. Shelves were stacked high with wooden boxes, all of them hand-carved and painted. There was a half-finished rocking horse staring blindly out from one corner. The other corner caught her eye, though she couldn't be sure why. The rest of the room was cluttered, with objects stacked all over one another, but the corner...

Several boxes were stacked in a heap. Not against the wall. Just there. In the middle of the floor. She could see traces of sawdust beneath them.

Emma put the flashlight between her teeth, and put her shoulder against the lowest box, and pushed. They were heavy, probably filled just to stop anyone from trying to move them. They creaked against her shoulder, then scraped slowly across the floor, until Emma fell onto her knees, panting. 

She looked down, the beam of the torch focussed between her knees, and she kind of wish she hadn't looked. 

The wooden floor was stained, even though someone had done a good job of trying to scrub it clean.

She took the flashlight out of her mouth and traced the marks with her fingertips, then looked around. Mutilation, she remembered. Parts missing. This was where the kid had died. Someone had either lured him in or found him, and hurt him here. There was no sign of spray, and that usually meant lots of bleeding and quick. 

No. 

Someone had taken their time.

Emma swallowed hard, getting to her feet.

There was no sign of any damage outside of the shop and no break ins had been reported, which meant that it was someone with access to the shop was responsible. She was halfway to the window, when she hesitated. She was inside the shop now. She might as well look and see what she could find. If there was some demon hiding out, all the better. 

She went to the door at the far side of the room and opened it, slipping into the shop. The streetlamp outside shone through the decorated windows and across the black and white checked floor. Painted eyes stared back from the shelves: wooden toys and dolls lined up in rows. There were castles, catapults, little wooden swords, boxes, even large wooden chests.

Emma looked around, but there was no sign of anyone, only an open doorway at the far side of the shop, half-obscured by a curtain. Flashlight in one hand, she drew out her knife in the other, just in case, and made her way through the curtain.

There was a dark staircase leading up. She flicked the flashlight off, sliding it back into her pocket, making her way up as carefully as she could. Once, twice, the stairs creaked beneath her feet and she froze, but no one called out and nothing moved.

The rooms above the store were an apartment, but it looked like it was a workshop too. 

There was sawdust on the floor, as she crept onwards, and the light that filtered through the net curtains on the window glinted on metal and tools. Row after row of old-fashioned puppet heads stared back at her as she edged by, and she pushed another door open just a crack.

The room was a bedroom, a young man’s judging by pictures of half-dressed women from magazines pinned to the walls alongside soccer posters. They were faded and curling at the edges. The shelf opposite the door had several dusty trophies on it. 

She leaned a little further into the room and froze at the sight of a young man silhouetted by the window. He wasn’t moving, just sitting in a chair, looking out into the street.

The smart thing would be to back out before he noticed her, but all she could think of was the blood all over the floor of the basement, and the boy who had died there.

She stepped into the room and moved slowly closer. The man didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Her hand tightened on the knife and she took a slow breath, then reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him around.

From the instant her hand touched him, she knew something was wrong.

His shoulder was hard, unyielding, and cold. He turned at the waist. No. He rotated with a creak of wood on wood. He was a puppet. A human-sized puppet.

When Emma saw its hand-carved face, she stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth, her stomach clenching in horror.

Billy’s dead eyes looked out at her from the puppet’s hollow eye sockets.

Emma ran.

 

___________________________________________________

 

“There, you see, that is not so difficult.”

Jeff grinned, looking at his handiwork. “It’s looking pretty good, isn’t it?”

Mr Giuseppe nodded approvingly. “You have done well, my boy,” he said. “It will be finished by tomorrow, if you work so hard.” He put his silver head to one side, studying the framework. “You have not told me yet what it is for?”

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “I have a friend who collects swords and things,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “She doesn’t have anywhere to put them, so I figured it would be something useful.”

“A very personal gift,” Mr Giuseppe agreed. “You must put some padding within the rests or else it will chip the wood. It would be a shame, after so much work.”

Jeff crouched down to sand along the bottom of the rack. “She probably won’t even like it,” he said with a sigh.

“Why do you say so?”

Jeff glanced up. “You know when you like a girl and you don’t want her to do something, but she does it anyway, because it’s just the way she is? I told her I didn’t want her to do… the thing, and she wasn’t happy about it.”

“You cannot control a woman,” Mr Giuseppe said with a grave nod. “If you say walk, they shall run. If you say stop, they shall go. All you can do is live and watch them live also, and be there when they have need of you.”

Jeff smiled crookedly. “Be there,” he said, straightening up. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Mr Giuseppe stepped closer. “Will you paint it?”

Jeff walked around the frame. It would hold at least three swords, with spaces for two battle axes as well. “I don’t know,” he said, looking over at the teacher. “Do you think painted or natural would be better? I don’t know what would be best.”

Mr Giuseppe had a strange look on his face, kind of sad. Mary Margaret was right, Jeff thought, if his lost son was still upsetting him so much. 

“You have made this thing, my boy,” the old man said. “It is your decision.” He took a breath as if shaking off whatever was bothering him. “I have paints and varnishes in my shop. If it is not too late, you can come and see what your choices are.”

Jeff glanced at his cell. It was late, sure, but no later than he had been staying out with Emma in the cemeteries. “I have an hour to kill,” he said. “Is your shop far from here? I mean, if it’s not too much trouble?”

Mr Giuseppe waved a hand dismissively. “It is my shop and it is my home. I will be going there, if you come with me or if you do not.” He clasped Jeff by the shoulder. “If you are a good boy, you should go home to your parents. They may worry.”

Jeff snorted. “You don’t know my parents,” he said. “They’re so wrapped up in business and success, I could fall down a rabbit hole and they’d never notice.”

Mr Giuseppe clicked his tongue. “People such as that, they should not be parents,” he declared. “If you have a child, you must protect and care for it.” He squeezed Jeff’s shoulder again. “You deserve better. You are a good boy.”

Jeff shrugged. “I’m me,” he said self-consciously. “You’re sure you don’t mind if I come back to the shop? I mean, I could come by tomorrow, when it’s not so late.”

Mr Giuseppe nudged him towards the door. “Soon is best,” he said. “I have much I would show you. You have good eyes to see such things. I need good eyes like yours.”

Jeff snatched his hat off the workbench. “Sounds good,” he said. “Thanks, Mr Giuseppe. You didn’t need to help me like this.”

Mr Giuseppe smiled as he put out the lights. “No, my boy,” he said. “You are helping me.”

“I am? With what?”

 

_______________________________________________________

 

“A puppet?”

Emma nodded, shuddering. “One of those creepy, hand-made wooden ones,” she said. “But it was human-sized and it looked real.” She hesitated. “Or someone was trying to make it look real. Maybe that’s why the eyes were…” She gestured to her face.

Mary Margaret looked pale. She was waiting at the house when Emma returned, talking to Gold about the body. Gold had the results from the autopsy, which didn’t make for pleasant reading. “Why put real eyes in a puppet, though? It’s not like they would work.”

Emma folded her arms, pacing back and forth across the floor. “This place is cursed,” she said. “I guess it could work.”

“No,” Gold murmured, staring into the distance. “There’s a precedence going back centuries of people making dolls that came to life by using energy or even body parts stolen from living human beings.” He looked at Emma sharply. “You said this thing was human-sized.”

Emma nodded. “I thought it was real when I saw it,” she said. “The room it was in, it was a boy’s room, but…” She shook her head slowly. “Something was off about it all. Something was wrong with the room. It looked like it had been left like that for years.” She looked at Gold. “Maybe it was meant to be a mannequin of the room’s owner?”

Gold’s expression went blank. “A lost child,” he murmured. “If someone can’t have their child, maybe they would be desperate enough to make a substitute, something to stand in its place?”

“What kind of parent would do that?” Emma said, looking nauseated.

“One with nothing left,” Gold said quietly. “Imagine if you lost Henry.”

“Mr Gold,” Mary Margaret said in a trembling voice. “If this is meant to replace a child, why the eyes? What are they for?”

“Windows to the soul, Miss Blanchard,” Gold replied. “Maybe this person just wants to make it look like their child or, if magic is involved, to draw the soul back. There’s power in the eyes.”

Mary Margaret pulled out her cell, tapping urgently at the screen and dialling. “Oh, this isn’t good,” she said. “He said Jeff’s eyes were like his son’s!” She bit her lip, then hung up when there was no reply. “I think it might be Mr Giuseppe. The one who made the puppet.”

“The wood shop teacher?” Emma said.

“You said it was a woodcraft store, right?” Mary Margaret said. “He has one he runs when he’s not teaching, and he had a son, a son he lost.”

“So we call the police and tell them to find him?”

“Emma, Jeff was with him! He said Jeff reminded him of his son!”

Emma stared at her blankly, then grabbed the nearest axe from the counter. “Where?”

The school was closed up and the woodshop was deserted.

“He’s not answering his cell,” Mary Margaret said, as they pulled away from the school in her car. “Emma, do you think…”

“Get to the Candy Box,” Emma snarled. “If he’s done anything to hurt Jeff, I don’t care how tragic his life was, I’m going to kill him.”

The woodcraft store was lit up like Christmas when Emma leapt out of the car. Mary Margaret rose to follow her, but Emma whirled on her. 

“No! I’m not having anyone else in danger! Call the police and wait here!”

Emma ran towards the shop. The door was locked. She glanced through the panes in the door and swore furiously. Jeff’s hat was lying on the floor. She slammed her elbow against one of the panels of glass and let herself in, stealth forgotten.

“Jeff! Jeff, where are you?”

There was no reply, then a sudden, frantic drumming, like someone kicking at a table.

The basement!

The door was locked, but two axe blows and a kick sent the door careening off its hinges, and she ran down the staircase. Jeff was strapped down on a table, arms, legs, chest, and his head lolled to the side. She could see a trickle of blood on his neck. Drugged. 

His eyes, though. They were moving, urgently, to behind her

Emma spun around, raising the axe in time to block Mr Giuseppe’s arm. He was holding a syringe. She shoved the handle of the axe in his face, hurling him back hard enough to knock over a stack of trinket boxes, then turned and rushed to Jeff, hacking at the restraints.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” she whispered, her hands trembling as she pulled the straps away. “Just to prove I can’t leave you unsupervised.”

Jeff’s eyes flickered again, but down this time, and without question, she threw herself to the floor. A bullet cracked through the air where she had been standing a moment earlier.

“You must stop now,” Mr Giuseppe said. “I am very sorry, but I need my boy’s eyes.”

“He’s not your boy!” Emma cried, rolling behind a stack of boxes and groping for a weapon as another bullet ricocheted off the shelves near her head. “I get that you lost your son, but killing someone else won’t bring him back!”

“He has to come home,” Giuseppe said. He sounded lost, broken. “My boy, he doesn’t like the dark. I have to let him see the light again.”

The dark. Her eyes flicked up to the light bulb swinging back and forth, casting strange, dancing light around the room. Giuseppe was counting on her to show herself. Her hand closed on something that felt like a hammer, and she took a breath and hurled it at the light.

The basement was plunged into blackness and she dived around the edge of the boxes, knocking over the table and Jeff. Giuseppe shouted out in fury, and that told Emma exactly where he was standing. She kept low and darted across the pitch-dark room, drawing her flashlight from her pocket.

She could hear Giuseppe shifting from foot to foot, too afraid to move, but still armed and still dangerous. She could hear his frantic breathing. She could almost make out the shape of him in the darkness, and she swung the flashlight like a club.

Giuseppe folded to the floor. She heard the gun clatter away out of his hands.

The flashlight flickered to life in her hands. Emma crouched down by Giuseppe. There was blood on his brow and he was unconscious, but he was breathing. She reached over and snatched some of the straps that had held Jeff, binding the old man securely, then crawled across the floor to Jeff’s side. He was sprawled there, unmoving.

“Hey,” she whispered, hauling him up into a sitting position against her chest. His head fell back to rest against her shoulder. “You okay?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and with great effort, he winked.

She tightened her arms around him. “You’re back on patrol,” she said, forcing her voice to be steady. “How else am I meant to keep you out of trouble?”

Jeff’s eyes slowly sank closed and she felt him sag, unconscious, in her arms.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she whispered.

She was still holding him like that when the police arrived.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

“And here I was, demon-hunting and trying to find something that specialised in mutilation,” David said with a rueful sigh, “and it was a human?”

Mary Margaret was curled up beside him on one of the couches in the students’ lounge. “He just missed his son,” she said. 

“What happened to him?” 

“Car crash,” Emma replied. She was sprawled in a chair opposite them, her feet propped on the table between them. “More than twelve years ago. His son was nineteen. First time driving solo and he was in a head-on collision turned inferno.” She grimaced. “Gold looked up the reports. There wasn’t even enough of him left to bury.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “It was kind of sad, really.”

“Sad in the ‘killed at least five people to try and bring his son back’ way,” Emma said, pulling a face. “I get that losing a kid can make you do crazy stuff, but trying to make a puppet of your son come to life by stuffing it with stolen body parts? There are no words for how creepy that is. We don’t even know if those are the only people he killed. They only found pieces of five victims, but there could be more.”

“At least he’s locked up,” David said. “You don’t get much more compelling evidence than dummies stuffed with… well… evidence.” He glanced at the one empty chair. “Is Jeff going to be okay?”

Emma nodded with a tired smile. “They kept him in hospital overnight for observation,” she said. “Whatever was in that syringe is taking a while to wear off. He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Normal?” Mary Margaret said with a laugh. “You’re talking about Jeff.”

Emma winced. “Good point,” she agreed. “He’ll be back to Jeffness in no time.” 

“And not letting you forget that you said you’d let him back on patrol?” Mary Margaret said with a laugh.

Emma groaned. “He told you?”

“Emma, he told anyone who was listening, as soon as he could talk,” Mary Margaret replied. “I think he missed it.” There was a mischievous glint in Mary Margaret’s eyes. “But I don’t think that’s all he missed.”

Emma could feel the blush rising. “Shut up.”

Mary Margaret exchanged looks with David. “Isn’t she cute when she’s in denial?” she said.

“Not as cute as you.”

And just like that Mary Margaret was blushing as much as Emma.

 

____________________________________________________

 

 

The toy shop was closed up.

The police had put boards on the windows, keeping curious eyes from looking into an active crime scene. The basement was turning out to be a house of horrors, but no one wanted to be the investigator to take the bedroom upstairs.

The lights were switched off and the police locked the doors, another day of searching the premises done.

A breeze whispered through the upper level of the house, stirring the net curtains, and making puppets rattle on their strings.

Wood creaked on wood.

A carved face left tear-streaked by trails of dry blood looked out of the window with stolen eyes.

“Papa?”


	13. Skin Deep

Breakfast was part of the normal routine.

Emma made sure to set out the juice and put the poptart in the toaster before she went to wake Henry up. She always made sure he ate before dressing, even if it mean she was late for school herself. She had already screwed up her education too much, but he had a chance to do well. 

She was halfway to his room when she heard a clatter from below.

Gold sometimes joined them for breakfast, but most of the time, he was busy researching whatever she had killed the night before, but he wasn't one for knocking things over and making a noise. She had a knife in her hand and was running to the door that led down the stairs before she even realised she'd made the decision.

Another crash made her hand tighten around the handle of the knife.

She'd learned from experience not to call down into the darkness. Getting the attention of something bad was never a good idea. Her bare feet made no sound on the steps as she made her way down into the dimly-lit store. It wasn't in the main store, which meant it was in the back, where all the Slayer stuff was kept.

Emma held her breath and crept closer, pushing aside the curtain that divided the back of the shop from the front. There was a figure there, going through one of the cupboards. It looked like Gold from the back, but the way it moved was different, wrong.

"No, no, no, no, no." It was muttering under its breath, throwing object after object over its shoulder. 

Emma stepped around broken glass and splintered wood, but in the dark it was hard to see, and she hissed as something sharp cut into her foot.

The creature that was and wasn't Gold swung around, his face glittering and demonic in the darkness. "Well, well, dearie," he said, grinning. "You've come to play!"

 

 

___________________________________________________________

 

 

The phone was ringing and it was worse than the alarm clock.

Jeff groped off the edge of the bed and found one of his hats, throwing it blindly. Either it landed on the telephone or it knocked it off the hook. Either way, there was silence, and that was good. He shoved his head back under the pillow.

Another telephone started ringing, and he tilted the pillow up just a little.

It was Emma's ringtone.

"Why do you hate me?" he moaned, rolling to the edge of the bed and searching out the cell on the floor. He finally found it tucked inside his shoe and picked up the call. "Do you know what time it is?"

"We got trouble," Emma said. She sounded like she was pacing, and that was never good. "I need you to look something up for me. I know you've been reading up on demons."

Jeff scratched his neck self-consciously. "Gold told me not to," he said.

"Yeah, and you're so good at doing what you're told," she snorted. "I've sent you a picture of a symbol. I need you to find out what it means."

"Can't Gold..."

"Gold's incapacitated. You're all I've got," she said, and hung up. 

Jeff stared at the cell. "Crap," he said. He flicked open the message centre on the phone, skimming through, looking for her message. He squinted at it, turning it every which way, until he could see what it was, and when he did, he kind of wish he couldn't.

It wasn't drawn on paper or in ink.

It looked like it had been scratched onto a wooden surface in blood.

She was right when she said he'd been reading up on demons, but Gold wouldn't let him anywhere near the book collection in the antique shop, so he'd looked in other places. 

He wasn't sure why the school library had a surprisingly big - and carefully monitored - section on demonology, but he'd spent hours there. He didn't borrow the books, because he didn't trust Gold not to check his stuff when he was in the store, but he photocopied them and kept them at home.

He riffled through the pages, muttering under his breath with each one he came across, and finally hit a page with half an image that almost matched the sketch Emma had sent him.

He flicked through the pages on either side of it, but there was no name or information about the mark. He must have missed it.

"Crap crap crap," he muttered, rushing to the wardrobe. He couldn't even remember which book it came from, but it was in the library and there weren't that many books in the library. He had the page number, and if he was quick, he'd get there before the librarian showed up and started asking questions about what he was doing there. 

He shoved the paperwork inside his battered top hat as he dashed out the door. Mary Margaret was waiting for him in her car, and he threw himself into the seat.

"What's going on?" she asked, as she floored the accelerator.

"Something happened to Gold," he replied. "We need to get information from the library."

She glanced sideways at him. "Serious?"

"Emma didn't say," he replied, leaning down to tie his boots. "Just get us there fast."

It amazed him how she was able to almost break the speed limit and parallel park without hitting anyone in the crowded school parking lot. They both tumbled out of the car, and he ran on ahead, knowing she would catch up and watch his back for him. 

The library was silent.

It was almost always silent, but now, it was the good silence of an empty library without a librarian.

Jeff clattered up the staircase towards the demonology section, pulling all of the dozen books out and dropping down onto the floor to leaf through them. They were all new editions, clean and barely even touched, which didn't feel right for books about ancient demons and monsters.

"Hi! Miss French!"

Mary Margaret's voice rang as clear as a warning bell and he flicked through faster, biting his lip. 

"Mary Margaret," Miss French said in surprise. "You're in early this morning. Can I help you with something?"

Jeff's fingers sped through the pages. He had papercuts, but that didn't matter.

"Um. I was wondering if you had any books on... um... football."

"Football?" Miss French said. She sounded like she was trying not to smile. "I'm pretty sure we do. What kind of thing are you looking for?"

"Just..." Mary Margaret hesitated too long, then seemed to decide that honesty was more useful. "I'm dating a football player. I think it'd be good for me to understand the rules."

Miss French laughed. "So, one of those kind of educational books," she said. "I think I can help."

Jeff was onto the last book, and his heart was beating so loud, he was amazed she couldn't hear it.

"Wait! Don't you have any down here?"

"You mean on my empty desk?" Miss French asked. She was silent for a moment, then Jeff heard her footsteps approaching too quickly for him to leave. He flicked to the right page, checking the image against the page number, but it wasn't there. "Jeff. What are you doing?"

He shoved the photocopy and the book behind his back instinctively. "Nothing."

Miss French looked at him sternly and held out her hands.

Jeff hesitated.

"Don't make me call on the Principal," she said quietly. "You know the rules about this section of the library."

Jeff reluctantly withdrew the paper and the book from behind his back, holding them out.

She ignored the book, and the look on her face when she saw the page shocked him.

She snatched the copy from him and stared at it, then looked at him. Her face was as white as the paper. "What are you doing with this sign?" she demanded.

 

_________________________________________________________

 

Emma was scared.

She didn't like it.

Ever since she had moved to Storybrooke, things had been stable. Yeah, it had been hard, and there had been all kinds of weird monsters and boogeymen, but Mr Gold was right there, telling her that she could do her job, that she wasn't a complete screw-up.

Now, he wasn't, and she needed him to be, because God, she was scared.

The thing that was wearing his body was in the cage in the basement. He never said why he needed the cage. He always said it was just in case. 'Just in case' could cover a lot of situations, but she never imagined it would be her Watcher, possessed by some kind of giggling demon.

The back of the store was a wreck, where it had thrown her into the shelves. It was strong, and she had been lucky to avoid the black claws on its fingers. One of the work benches was upended. She’d used it as a weapon to knock him flat, but she didn’t have time to worry about the mess.

When it was locked up tight, she cleaned herself up and rushed to chase Henry out to school. He was late, and she was going to be too, but the thing in the cage was more important than her grades.

"You hurt your arm," Henry said, as she rushed him out the front door.

"I slipped on the stairs," she lied, glancing at the bruise. "It'll be fine."

He looked at her, worried, but obediently hurried towards the school bus that was waiting by the sidewalk. She waved him off, then ran back into the house and down the stairs into the basement. The demon was conscious, standing in the middle of the cell, hands twitching by his sides.

"Very good, dearie, very good indeed," he said in that strange, mocking voice. "Silver-infused bars, washed with Holy Water and etched with Holy Symbols." He tilted his head like a lizard, his dark, solid eyes wide and staring. "Anyone would think you didn't want me to get out."

"Yeah," Emma said, folding her arms tight over her chest. "How about that."

He skipped from one side of the cell to the other, Gold’s limp apparently not a problem to him. He sniffed at the air, and put his hand as close to the bars as he could without injury. "He's a thorough one, isn't he?" he said, spinning on his heel to look at her. "Clever boy, too. So many useful toys, so little time."

"What do you want here?" Emma asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "What do you want with him?"

"With him?" The demon splayed his hands on his chest and widened his eyes in mock-horror. "Why would I want him? All grief and baggage and old, worn bones." He leaned closer to the bars. "Oh, no, dearie. If I had a choice, I'd be happier with one like you. A Slayer." His tongue darted along his lips. "And so much anger and fear."

She forced her arms down by her sides. "What are you looking for?"

"Looking for?" He blinked innocently at her. "What makes you think I was looking for anything?"

"Because I saw you."

He put his head to the side again, then clasped a hand to his chest. "Caught in the act!" He lamented, then leaned closer to the bars. "If I don't find it, I don't go away, dearie, and you'll never see your precious Watcher again." He grinned, showing black teeth. "Won't that be fun to explain to little Henry?"

Emma was about to reach through the bars and grab him when a voice cried out, "Don't!"

She spun around, startled.

"Miss French?"

The librarian was picking her way down the stairs. "Don't touch him," she said, her eyes on the creature in the cage. "He's strong enough to tear you to pieces."

"What are you doing here?"

Miss French didn't look at her, her eyes fixed on the cage. "Helping."

Jeff was behind her, and Mary Margaret behind him.

"Is that...?" Jeff asked.

"Rumpelstiltskin," Miss French said quietly. "The deal-maker."

The demon fell still and silent and Emma turned, startled by the lack of response. He reached up to the crossbars of the cage, and curled long, bony fingers over the metal. There was a smell of burning, the hiss of flesh being seared by the bars. "My, my," he whispered. "My precious little treasure. It has been a long time, hasn't it? Look at you, all grown up."

"What's going on?" Emma asked sharply. "How do you know that thing?"

"I'll explain later," Miss French said, her voice calm and quiet. "I'll take care of him. Your friends can tell you what you need to do."

Emma shook her head, grabbing Miss French's shoulder. "Why should I do what you say?" she demanded.

"Because if you don't," Miss French replied, turning her head to look at Emma. "Your Watcher will die."

In the cage, the demon giggled in delight. "She's right, you know," he said, eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Emma stared at the woman who had just been a librarian to her. "Okay," she said. "But if anything happens to him, if he dies..."

Miss French nodded. "Go," she said. 

 

 

________________________________________________________

 

The door to the basement was closed.

"What the hell is she doing here?"

Jeff backed away from Emma with his hands raised. "She knows the demon," he said. "She recognised the symbol when I was looking for it, and she knows a way to get it out of Gold!” He took a breath, calming himself. “She says someone in town must have summoned it, because it isn't the kind of demon who possesses people by choice. She said there’s a knife, one that can control it and make it do what the holder wants."

"Like look for something they want." Emma pushed her hands through her hair. "Great," she said. "Just great. My watcher is a demon, my school librarian knows him, and there's someone out there unleashing hell with summoning knives." She sagged down onto the remaining workbench. "Hit me."

Jeff looked nervously at Mary Margaret, who said quietly, "We'll need magic to find them."

Emma folded her arms. "Magic."

"Whoever summoned it would have left a magical signature," Jeff said. "We can find the person, and the knife they use to control him. Once we get that, we can exorcise the demon out of Mr Gold and everything'll be back to normal."

"And we do this how?" Emma asked, rubbing her forehead.

"I called Regina," Mary Margaret said.

Emma rose from the table. "No."

"Emma, she can help us."

"We don't know if her mom's power is really all gone from her," she said. "Or if she’s even ready to do this! You saw how freaked out she was the last time she tried to do magic."

"Em," Jeff said quietly, "you know we don't have a choice."

"Says the librarian," Emma snapped. "How do we know we can trust her?"

"Who else have we got?" Mary Margaret said. "We have the information about that demon, but we need the object they used to summon it. We need someone who can do magic. If Miss French is right, Mr Gold will die if we don't get the demon out of him."

Emma kicked the broken desk. It shattered. "Fine," she whispered. "But if he's less than okay, I can't promise I won't beat the hell out of the librarian."

Mary Margaret squeezed her shoulder. "We need to go upstairs and get things ready," she said. 

Jeff followed them both up the staircase into the house. "We'll need a flat surfaces, big enough to lay out a map of the town," he said. "Does Mr Gold have any salt?"

"Salt?"

Jeff nodded, hurrying towards the polished teak dining table and spreading the map. "It's a purifier. Used for good magic and to keep demons at bay. We'll be able to use it to centre on the anchor for the demon."

"So when you told Gold you weren't reading anymore, you weren't," Emma said, going to the kitchen. "You were practising."

Jeff looked offended. "You have to be prepared," he said.

"You got that right," Emma said, turning sharply when the doorbell rang. 

Mary Margaret ran down to let Regina in. The other girl nodded nervously at Emma as she approached the table and the map. 

"Mary Margaret says we're looking for a power source," she said, setting her bag down.

"Something controlling a demon," Emma said curtly. "You three can do the magic. You sure you’re not going to start channelling again?"

Regina hesitated. “I-I think so. I haven’t had any problems since.”

"What are you going to do?" Jeff asked, watching Emma.

Emma pulled a cleaver from the knife rack. "Watch," she said, her eyes on Regina. "Just to be on the safe side."

Regina blanched, but nodded, sitting down at the table.

Jeff kept one eye nervously on Emma as they set out candles and marked the circle. He'd never done magic before, but he'd seen it done and the Slayer standing over him with a knife wasn't as reassuring as he imagined it would be. He, Regina, and Mary Margaret linked hands.

"Repeat what I say," Regina said, her voice trembling. "Jeff first, then Mary Margaret."

He nodded, swallowing hard.

Nothing happened at first, but as the chant went on, he felt a tingle pass through his fingers. The scatter of salt in the centre of the map started to move and he heard Emma swear, but forced himself to keep chanting after Regina, even when the salt started swirling and spiralling across the map.

It formed a circle, drawing tighter and tighter on a neighbourhood, then a street, then a block, then a house.

"Ow!"

All three of them broke the circle, shaking their hands.

"Was it meant to sting?" Mary Margaret asked, rubbing her fingertips together.

"Not that I know of," Regina said. "But we have our location." She rose from the chair and leaned over the map. Her face went even paler. "Oh God."

"Regina," Mary Margaret said quietly. "That's your house."

 

____________________________________________________________

 

 

"And one, and two, and three, and four out." The demon opened his eyes and smiled his awful smile. "Alone at last, dearie."

Isabelle French Was sitting calmly on a chair, her hands folded in her lap. "Yes, we are," she said. She had waited until the children were gone before speaking, not because she didn't trust them, but because she didn't trust the demon to take advantage of the presence of others in the house. Even behind bars, Rumpelstiltskin was dangerous. "You know why I came."

"Oh, I do," he whispered. "Not at first, but given time, I pried open the right memory. Tell me, dearie, are you here because you kissed him once or because you want to kiss him again?"

She raised her head, keeping her expression calm and neutral, though she could feel her cheeks redden. "Does it matter?" she asked.

"I only ask the important questions," he replied with a mirthful giggle and puckered his lips. "The truth, dearie. You don't get anything for nothing from me. You know the rules."

"Both," she replied finally. 

He pressed his hands to its mouth, feigning delighted horror. "My little Belle kissing men? Even men who don’t trust you anymore? Ten years out of the world and this is what I return to? Tut tut, dearie! I didn’t think you would be foolish enough to let me loose again to see what my precious has been up to!”

"I'm not yours anymore," she reminded him quietly. "I'm mine. That was the deal. I beat you, remember."

"Oh, you did," he purred, tracing his fingertips along the bars, leaving wisps of smoke curling from seared flesh. "You were the only one to do it without cheating as well." Dark eyes fixed on her face. “Safe and well, I see.”

She watched him quietly. “Safe and well,” she murmured. “The house is still safe? Even if someone else controls you?”

He snickered. “So worried about your little home, hmm?” He shook his head from side to side. “No, no. Once a deal is made it remains unbroken.” He tightened his hands on the bars. “I missed you, dearie." His lips twitched back from his teeth. "And now, we can both have what we want."

Isabelle rose, approaching the bars. "They're fetching the anchor used to hold you in this world," she said quietly. "You'll be gone soon enough."

“Ah, yes.” The reptilian eyes narrowed. “Very clumsy, losing my dagger, wasn’t it?”

She folded her arms. “Not lost,” she said quietly. “Stolen. Someone who knew of you. A witch called Cora.”

The demon’s eyes flashed. “Yes, yes, yes,” he breathed. “She would want the power, but I’d recognise her taint and this?” He gestured dramatically to himself. “Whoever holds my blade is not the lady in question.” He grinned unpleasantly. “I’m… familiar with her touch.”

Isabelle’s expression was impassive, but she knew he could read her better than anyone. “We’ll bind you again,” she said quietly. “You’ll be free in your own dimension.”

"But you didn't tell them what that could do to their dear golden boy, did you? You didn’t tell them why you know about it, did you?" he said with a chuckle. "And now, I know why you came, now I know what you want with this feeble little body." His face was so close to the bars that the skin started to blister. "I could close myself in his flesh and take him with me." He grinned wickedly. "It might kill us both, but the chance to beat you, my dove? I would do that a thousand times."

She put her hand between the bars and touched the demon's cheek, and saw confusion, shock. "You don't want to do that," she said in a whisper. "I'll make a deal with you, Rumpelstiltskin. When they break your shackles, leave in peace, and I'll give you the one thing you wanted from me."

The demon shrank back, staring at her. "What I want? What I..." He shook his head. "I am no mortal, bought and sold for favours."

She might have believed his confident bluster, if not for the nervous, agitated way he was twisting long-fingered, clawed hands together.

"I know you, Rumpelstiltskin," she said. "I was yours long enough to see you look at me. You caught me when I fell, remember."

"You lie," he whispered. "Lie."

"I don't break my deals," she said. "You taught me that. A deal must be honoured, otherwise what is it worth?" Her arm extended through the bars, palm up. "Will you make a deal with me, Rumpelstiltskin? Will you trade his life for what I offer?"

The demon bellowed and struck her arm so hard something cracked and she cried out, startled and hurt.

"No!" he roared. "He is mine now, and mine he shall stay! You took yourself from me once, now I shall take what is precious to you!"

Isabelle stumbled back from the bars, holding her arm, her eyes bright, but her expression fierce. "No, you won't," she said.

Rumpelstiltskin laughed darkly. "A challenge, dearie? Oh, I do like those." He wrapped its palms around the bars and pressed his face between them. "No matter if you win, this time, you will lose."

Isabelle met his eyes. "We'll see."

 

 

______________________________________________________________

 

"She can't be there," Regina whispered. "She can't be. We smashed the mirror. We got rid of her."

Emma adjusted the knife in the sheath against her spine. "Well, if she's not, someone else is," she said. "Are you gonna hold it together when we go in there?"

Regina was trembling, but she nodded. "If it is her, we have to stop her."

"Can you cast some kind of spell to hide us?" Jeff asked. He was sitting in the back seat of Emma's car with Regina. "Not from each other, but from whoever is in there?"

Regina opened up the books in her lap, flicking through them as quickly as she could. "I can do this one but it won't last long," she said, looking up. "I'm not powerful enough to sustain it for more than ten minutes."

"That's all I need," Emma said. "Cast it when we're at the door, to give us as long as possible. Mary Margaret, you stay here and be ready to go when we come out. We'll be in a hurry."

Regina and Jeff climbed out of the car, but Mary Margaret leaned over and caught Emma's arm. "What if it is Cora?"

Emma looked at her. "Then she's given me one more reason to kick her ass," she said. "I'm getting Gold back." She slid out of the car, and adjusted the sleeves of her leather jacket. There was a stake hidden in one and a pair of nunchucks in the other. She joined Jeff and Regina at the back door. "Where's the power centre of the house?"

"It'll be in the back bedroom on the top floor," Regina said. "That's... that was mother's room."

"Okay." She nodded to Regina. "Mask us."

It was like they were walking in a cloud of pale purple, with Emma at the front, her hand wrapped around the knife handle at her back. Regina was behind her, and Jeff bringing up the rear, holding a battle axe unsteadily in his hands as they crept up the stairs.

"Oh..." Regina staggered.

"What is it?" Emma hissed, as Jeff propped Regina up.

Regina looked up, white-faced. "Can't you feel it?" she whispered. "It's her."

"It can't be," Emma said. "C'mon. Let's get this done."

She ran up the remainder of the stairs and pushed the door open. Cora wasn't there, but someone else was, kneeling in the middle of a pentagram, an ornate, engraved knife resting in his bandaged hands. He was rocking slowly back and forth and chanting under his breath.

Regina gasped. "Daddy?"

The protective shield around them was ripped away, and Henry Mills got to his feet, turning around in the middle of the pentagram. “Didn’t I ever tell you not to sneak up on me, dear?” he said. “It’s very rude.”

Regina whimpered, backing away.

“Drop the knife,” Emma said, pulling her own dagger from behind her back.

“It’s her,” Regina whispered. “She’s got my daddy.”

Emma lunged at him, and a gesture hurled her across the room, into the wall with a force that would have killed a normal girl. She fell heavily, sprawled on the floor. 

“Surely you didn’t think smashing a mirror would be enough to stop me, Regina,” Cora said through her husband’s lips. Another gesture sent the battle axe spinning from Jeff’s hand and thudding down the stairs. “You didn’t think yours was the only magic mirror, did you?”

Regina backed away from her father. “What have you done with daddy?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Cora said. “He’s still in here.” Henry’s hand shot out and caught Regina by the throat. “Unlike my daughter, my husband knows when to do what he’s told.”

Emma was struggling back to her feet behind Henry, and Jeff was scrambling after his axe.

“If you had only listened to me, dear,” Cora said, “you wouldn’t need words to use those magic books. You could stop me with a thought.”

Regina’s eyes widened and she swung her arms up as hard as she could. The book she was holding smashed her father square in the face, throwing him backwards, and he fell like a pillar. Regina remained standing, trembling, the book upraised.

Emma staggered over, kneeling. “Did he touch the mirror?” Regina was silent, tears streaking down her face. “Regina! Did he touch a mirror?”

Regina flinched and nodded. “His hands. He cut them when he cleared up my mirror.”

Jeff approached her, taking the book from her hands. “You’re okay,” he said, searching her face. “You’ll be okay.”

She looked at him tearfully. “I hit him, Jeff. He’s my dad and I hit him.”

“You did what you had to, to save him,” Jeff said, jolting in surprise when she threw her arms around him and clung onto him. He looked helplessly down at Emma, who was unwrapping the bandages from Henry Mills’ hands. 

She searched the cuts, and bared her teeth. “It looks like a shard got lodged in his hand,” she said. She stuck the tip of her dagger into one of the nearby candles, then split the skin. The dagger clinked against glass and she flicked the sliver of broken mirror out onto the floor, then scrubbed the blade on Henry’s shirt. The blood throbbed from the cut, filling Henry’s palm and started to well over.

“Break the pentagram!” Jefferson exclaimed. “Quick!”

Startled, Emma slammed her fist through the painted sign. It splintered and sparked, then sputtered into nothing. “Is that enough?”

Jeff nodded. “If his blood landed inside the seal, the demon could have taken him,” he said, his voice shaking. “We broke the connection.”

Henry Mills groaned and Regina spun around from Jeff. “Daddy?”

He opened his eyes, squinting. “Gina?”

“Oh, daddy,” Regina sobbed, falling to her knees and flinging her arms around him. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s all right,” Henry said faintly. “We’re both all right.”

Regina looked up at them. “I have to take care of him,” she said frantically. “I-I can’t help you with Gold.”

“I know.” Emma drew back, leaving Regina to tend her father’s hand and head. Her attention was on the strange knife he had been holding. It made her fingers prickle when she picked it up, and she could feel the power in it.

“This is it,” she said quietly, looking at Jeff. “This is how we save Gold.”

 

______________________________________________________________

 

“I don’t believe the boy knows what he’s doing.”

Jeff’s hands were trembling as he painted the marks on the floor.

“Just ignore him,” Miss French said. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes on the demon that was in Gold’s body. “Once he’s in the pentagram, we can see about the exorcism. You just concentrate on painting the lines.”

Emma was tapping the knife against her hand.

“Don’t,” Miss French said, reaching over and taking the knife from her.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “He’s my Watcher,” she said.

“And if you cut yourself on the knife, we would have a Slayer possessed by a demon instead,” Miss French said. “You hold the knife, you control him. You let the knife pierce your skin and make contact with your blood, and he’ll possess you.”

“You seem to know a lot about this knife.”

Miss French gazed down at it. “Of course I do,” she said. “I’m its protector.” She nodded to the demon. “I’m his keeper.”

Rumpelstiltskin bared its teeth, rolling its head. “You don’t let me have any fun, dearie,” he said, drumming its fingers on the bars. 

Jeff could smell burning flesh and felt sick, but swallowed hard and kept painting. He checked all the points of the pentagram and the marks around it against the marks on the page that Miss French had given him. “That’s it.”

Miss French nodded in approval. “You two should step back.”

“Doing it yourself, are you, precious?” The demon was almost leering at her. “You know this isn’t going to end well.”

Miss French didn’t look scared at all. “Obey me,” she said quietly.

The demon inclined its head.

“Emma, unlock the cage.”

“Are you…”

“I’m sure,” Miss French said, holding the knife by her side. Jeff could see it shaking against her leg, and he wondered how she could act so calm. She had to be scared to be shaking so much, but he would never have guessed. She stepped to the edge of the marks on the floor as Emma opened the door. “Rumpelstiltskin, step into the middle of the pentagram.”

With a mocking bow, the demon capered to the pentagram and leapt into the middle. He spread his hands extravagantly. “Shall we begin the exorcism, then, dearie? Aren’t you keen to taste defeat?”

Jeff yelped as Miss French pulled the collar of her blouse open and put the knife to her throat. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t look at him. She was staring the demon down. “I’m saving Mr Gold,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “If I break my skin with this knife, you would have to possess me, Rumpelstiltskin.” The demon growled, shifting from foot to foot. “If you possess me, you break our deal, the deal where I was free from you forever. Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” he snarled. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She was smiling, hard, and shaking. “Oh, I would,” she said. “You know me, Rumpel. I don’t do things by half-measures. I offered you a deal. That was the easy way. This… well, we know what happens if you possess me.”

“So he would break a deal,” Emma said, watching Miss French warily. “So what?”

“You aren’t called the deal-maker if you go around breaking deals,” Miss French said, her eyes fixed on the demon. “You have a choice, Rumpel. Let him go in peace or break a deal that you promised was forever.”

Jeff glanced at the demon. He looked furious, but there was something else there. He almost looked as if it was… impressed? Proud?

Rumpelstiltskin bowed again, but this time, it was deeply, and almost respectful. “I stand defeated again, Belle,” he said. “You can have your man back, whole and in one piece.” He crooked a rueful smile at her. “There’s a lesson here, isn’t there?”

She lowered the dagger from her throat and stepped into the pentagram. “There is,” she said, lifting her hand to brush the demon’s hair back from his face. “And it’s that when I make an offer for someone’s life, I don’t break my deals either, Rumpel.”

Jeff and Emma both exclaimed in horror as she rose on her toes and gently kissed the demon on the lips.

When she stepped back, Gold staggered, gasping, and would have fallen, if she hadn’t caught him around the middle.

He looked up, paler than usual. “Isabelle?”

“Welcome back, Augustus,” she said.

Jeff and Emma looked at each other. “Augustus?”

“Demon for a day, and that’s what they notice,” Gold said dryly, his voice rasping. He looked at them both. “And why aren’t you two at school?”

Emma swore aloud, grabbing Jeff’s arm and hauling him up the stairs.

 

___________________________________________________________

 

“That was a great dinner, Mr Gold.”

Mr Gold smiled. “Thank you, Henry.”

Henry looked at Emma. “Can you help me with my homework?”

Emma smiled. “Sure. You go and get your books out in your room. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

As soon as the boy was gone, Emma looked at Gold. “Sorry I had to hit you with the desk.”

“In your defence,” Gold replied with a crooked smile, “it wasn’t me you were hitting.” He rose, taking up his cane, and started gathering the dishes together with his other hand. “You dealt with the situation very well, especially given how unexpected it was.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, getting up to help. “How many Slayers have to beat their Watchers senseless and lock them in a cage.”

“You’d be surprised,” Gold said mildly.

Emma eyed him suspiciously. “Sarcasm, right?” He raised his eyes from the dishes, one side of his mouth twitching. “I could hit you with the dining table, if you want.”

“I think I could do without that,” he said. “I’ll be borrowing your arnica for a few days, I think. The bruising looks like it could last a while.”

Emma winced. “At least we got rid of the demon,” she said. “And Cora, for now. Regina says her dad is okay. Shaken up and doesn’t remember much, but he’ll be all right.” She looked at her Watcher. “I don’t think Cora’s gone forever.”

“She’s persistent,” Gold said with a sigh. “It’s fortunate you had help today.”

Emma carried the stack of plates over to the kitchen counter. “Yeah,” she said, glancing back at him, not sure what to say or how to ask all the questions that had been bugging her all day. “It’s kind of weird that Miss French knew it. The demon, I mean. She knew its name and how to beat it and everything.”

Gold laughed quietly, but it was weary. “Everyone has some skeleton in their closet,” he said. “Miss French told me she had the bad fortune to be traded to a deal-making demon when she was barely more than a child, in exchange for her mother’s life. She was clever enough to find a way to win her freedom, and now, she has won mine as well.”

“And you two were… kinda making goo-goo eyes at each other,” Emma observed.

“Hardly,” Gold said, though he avoided meeting her eyes. 

Emma snorted. “Oh, come on!” she said, grinning. “I was there. You were shaky, but you weren’t going to fall down. I’ve seen you feint way too many times.” She edged around the table and nudged his arm. “You wanted Miss French to hold you.”

He looked at her then, attempting stern. “You are young, Miss Swan,” he said, “and while you know a lot about killing things, you don’t really know a lot about my love life.”

“So there’s a love-life, is there?” She grinned at him.

“Oh, shut up, Swan,” he said. “Go and do your brother’s homework. It’s about your level, after all.”

Emma couldn’t help laughing. It had shocked her to realise just how much she would have missed him if he was gone. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she confessed quietly, ducking her head.

Gold looked at her in surprise. “You too, Swan,” he replied, just as quietly.


	14. Collateral

A storm had swept in from the sea. 

Sensible people were closed up indoors, away from the worst of it.

One young man was not.

David Nolan stood in the shadows of one of the buildings on main street, his coat fastened tight around him. His eyes were fixed on the building across the street, and in his hand, he was holding a long, narrow dagger. Several levels up, a figure was visible, silhoutted against the illuminated window. 

A car roared by and David shrank back further into the shadows.

It wasn't time. Not yet. Not until he was sure.

He slid the dagger beneath his coat and turned in the direction of home.

The house was dark and unwelcoming. He had tried keep it powered up like a normal home but it had long-since stopped working when his money was needed for more important things, like looking like a regular kid. Instead, he lit candles when he entered, and the small gas stove provided a little heat. 

He shed his wet coat and crouched down by the stove, warming his hands over it. His eyes rose to the pictures propped on the table nearby. The anniversary was never easy.

"I think I've found him, mom," he said quietly. "The one who did this to us all." He touched his chest, feeling the ridges of scars beneath his t-shirt. "And I'm going to kill him so he can't do it again."

 

___________________________

 

Emma prodded the carcass with her foot. Her clothes and hair were spattered with viscous goo, and she was breathing hard.

"Isn't it meant to turn to dust or melt or something?" Jeff said, stepping over a tangle of tentacles. He had avoided the worst of the spray when Emma had dealt the killing blow, but the legs of his pants were torn across the thigh from spines. It was only luck that had saved him from wounds.

"Only if you're lucky," Emma said.

They were on the outskirts of town, having chased down a demon in Mary Margaret's car. It was mostly harmless apart from an unfortunate habit of consuming children who wandered too close. The body had been neatly split down the middle with a chainsaw, and some of the outlying tentacles were still twitching.

"You need gas?" Mary Margaret said. "I have a can in the car. We can burn it."

"Gold's taught you bad habits," Emma said with a snort. She gestured around them. "If it was summer and we had some cover, maybe, but at this time of year? People are going to notice a fire in the woods and come looking and the last thing we need is them tripping over this."

"Yeah," Jeff said, giving a tentacle a kick. "We don't want anyone to think Cthulu Junior has been hanging around."

Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged looks.

Jeff's eyes widened in outrage. "Am I the only one who has read Lovecraft?"

Emma patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "I kill demons for a living," she said. "Not much time for reading." She looked back down at the carcass. "I think we're either looking at a slice and dice, a burial, or we take it down the coast and push it off a cliff."

"All options sound messy," Mary Margaret said. "And I'm not explaining tentacle-gunk in my car to my dad."

"You have a chainsaw," Jeff said. "I'm all for slice and dice."

Emma picked up the chainsaw one-handed and examined it. "You might want to back up," she said. "I think this could get gross."

"Good thing I have plastic sheeting for the car," Mary Margaret said, grabbing Jeff's arm and hauling him out of spatter range. They took shelter behind a tree as the chainsaw roared to life in Emma's hand, and Mary Margaret pulled a face. "This is the part I don't like."

"Yeah, because the almost being torn to shreds is fun," Jeff said.

She looked at him. "Jeff, with you, I could totally believe that."

He grinned at her and peeked around the edge of the tree. "I think she's..." His words were stifled when a meaty strip of flesh struck him in the face, shredded by Emma and her chainsaw.

Mary Margaret clapped her hand over her mouth, trying to smother her laughter.

"Shut up," Jeff said, scowling, wiping at his face with his sleeve.

"Didn't say anything," Mary Margaret said virtuously. 

Ten minutes later, Emma stalked out from the clearing, covered from head to toe in slime. "Jeff, if you have a camera and I find any pictures of this online, I will take an even bigger camera and give you a rectal exam," she growled. "Are we clear?"

"I stopped with the cameras!" Jeff protested. "You know I did!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your mouth says it, but your face is red," she said.

Jeff stuck out his tongue. "That would be the demon bits you threw at me."

Emma snorted. "Mary Margaret, you got plastic?"

"As always," Mary Margaret agreed, as they set out back in the direction of the car. "What happens to the bits?"

"We're in the woods," Emma said with a dismissive wave. "Foxes. Wolves. Whatever."

Jeff trailed after them. "I hope they like calamari."

 

___________________________________________________

 

Henry put the DVD in the player, and looked over his shoulder at Mr Gold, who was sitting on the couch.

“Do you have the remote?”

Me Gold nodded, lifting it up. “We should be able to watch an episode of your show before Emma gets back,” he said, wincing as he pushed himself back against the cushions.

Mr Gold was still getting better after something bad caught him in the shop. He had some bruises on his face, but when he walked, he limped worse than usual, and it looked like it hurt him a lot to do anything.

His friend, Miss French, had come for dinner while Emma was out. She brought takeout from one of the Chinese restaurants, and they let him eat his out of the box. Henry liked her. She was smart and she told him about all kinds of demons and magic.

She wasn’t like Mr Gold. She didn’t train people like Emma to fight monsters. But she was clever and brave, and Henry could tell that Mr Gold liked her a lot. She liked Mr Gold too, and both of them thought Henry didn’t notice.

He’d left them talking, taking all the dishes to the kitchen, then went to his room to lie on his bed and play video games so they could have grown-up alone time. He didn’t come back out until he heard Miss French call to say goodbye to him. 

Henry waved to her from the top of the stairs, then retreated again to let her say goodbye to Mr Gold, and because he’d let Mr Gold have date-time, that was why he was allowed to stay up later than usual and watch one of his DVDs.

“Did you have a good time with Miss French?” Henry asked, as he crawled back to the sofa and clambered up. 

Mr Gold smiled just a little. “I did,” he said. “And she enjoyed your company a great deal.”

“She’s nice,” Henry said. “How come she knows so much?”

Mr Gold chuckled. “She’s a librarian,” he said. “They tend to collect a lot of information.” He patted the space on the sofa next to him, and Henry scooted a little closer. “You’ll have to explain to me what this programme is about.”

Henry looked at him in disbelief. “Don’t you watch any TV?”

“Not much,” Mr Gold said, pressing play on the remote.

They got through one episode before Henry started yawning, and Mr Gold switched the TV and DVD player off. 

“You should probably go to bed.”

Henry shook his head. “I want to stay up,” he said. “Emma should be back. She’s not back.”

“She’ll be back shortly,” Mr Gold said gently, guiding Henry to his feet. “As soon as she comes in, I’ll tell her to come in and see you, but you should go to bed anyway. You can wait there, so you can sleep as soon as she comes in.”

Henry wanted to argue, but he was tired, and Mr Gold looked tired too. “You want me to get you some medicine?” he said. “You look like you’re hurting.”

Mr Gold almost smiled again. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Old bones don’t do well with bruises.”

Henry nodded. “You’ll tell Emma?” he said. “When she comes back?”

“Of course,” Mr Gold promised.

Henry made his way to his room. He left the door open a crack as usual, and changed and crawled under the covers. His torch was shoved down the back of the bed. He pulled a book in beside him, determined to be awake until Emma got back.

He must have fallen asleep some time in the middle, because he woke when someone sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Henry?” Emma whispered.

He pushed down the covers to peek out at her. Her hair was wet around her shoulders and she smelled like the soap in the bathroom. She must have been real dirty to take a shower after coming in so late.

“Y’back?” he murmured.

She smiled tiredly, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I am,” she whispered. “You can go to sleep now.”

He reached out and squeezed her arm. “G’night, Emma.”

She smoothed his hair as his eyes sank closed again. “Good night, Henry.”

 

____________________________________________

 

"What are you thinking about?"

David looked down at Mary Margaret, as if he was surprised to find her sitting by his side. "Mm?"

Mary Margaret squeezed his hand. They were walking through the park, watching kids playing in the layer of snow that covered the park. It looked like they were building an army of snowman. "You seemed like you were a thousand miles away," she said. "Something on your mind?"

He was so quiet that she immediately started worrying.

"David?"

He withdrew his wallet from his pocket, flicking it open one-handed. "I want to show you something," he said quietly. There was a picture tucked inside of a woman with two identical boys, who looked about twelve years old.

Mary Margaret leaned closer to look. "Your mom?"

"And my twin brother," David said.

Mary Margaret sat up, startled. "You have a brother? I didn't know."

"Had."

Mary Margaret felt like her tongue had turned to stone. "Oh," she said weakly. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "You weren't to know," he said. He closed the wallet up. "It was two years ago last week." 

She didn't know what to say as they walked back out onto the snow. "The Lover?" she asked quietly.

He nodded distantly. They walked toward the centre of the park. The fountain was frozen over, white with snow. He took a long, slow breath. "Mary Margaret," he said. "I really think it'd be safer for you if we stopped seeing each other for a while."

She stopped short. "What?"

He looked down at her. "I've been hunting the thing that sent the demon after my family for a long time," he said. "I don't want you to be in the crossfire when I find him. It would be safer for you if we stayed away from each other for a while."

Mary Margaret stared at him. "Why?"

"Why?" He shook his head. "You don't know how dangerous this thing is."

"I think I do!" Mary Margaret protested. "I've been helping Emma with the slaying for nearly six months now! Do you think I'm stupid enough to fall for the Lover?" He flinched, shying back. "Do you think I can't take care of myself?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "It's not that!"

"Then what?" she demanded hotly, her eyes pricking with unwanted tears. "I want to help you! I can help!"

"Mary Margaret, this is serious!"

She balled her gloved hands into fists. "I _am_ serious!" she said fiercely. "I don't want to see you going all lone-gunman on me!"

"And I don't want you to die!" It was almost a shout, and in the silence that followed - shocked and shivering - he caught her hands, squeezing them almost painfully through the gloves. "Mary Margaret, I've lost my whole family to demons. I... don't think I could cope if I lost you too."

She tugged her hands free from his and stepped closer, wrapping her arms tight around his middle. "You won't lose me," she said quietly. 

He didn't put his arms around her. He didn't hold her. He just stood like he was a statue and she knew he wasn't listening to a word she was saying. 

"I need some time," he said finally, stepping back. "Time on my own to deal with this."

"You'll get yourself killed," she said, looking at him. "You can't do this on your own."

"I've been doing it on my own for two years," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Please, Mary Margaret."

She wasn't sure if she was more hurt or angry. "You can stay away from me," she said, putting her hands into her pockets. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to wrap myself up in cotton wool just because you think I'm too weak to help you."

"I'm trying to keep you safe!" he said.

"You're making a mistake," Mary Margaret said flatly. "You want to do this on your own? Fine. I get that, but you're going to get yourself killed."

"I can't lose anyone else," he said, his voice sinking. "Not again."

"And what's changed? Why now? Why bother dating me at..." She drew back, her breath catching. "You've found it, haven't you? The one who did this?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "You need to be safe and being far from me is the safest thing just now."

"David, let Emma help!"

"This isn't her fight."

She stared at him in disbelief. "She's the Slayer," she said quietly. "It's a demon. Of course it's her fight."

"Not this time," he said. "This thing is responsible for the demon that killed my family. It's mine to deal with."

"And if it's too much?" she demanded. "What then?"

He shrugged. "I've been planning for this for a long time," he said. He rubbed his gloved hands together. "You can tell her if you like, but that doesn't change the fact I'm doing this on my own."

Mary Margaret shook her head in disbelief. "And to think," she said, "I thought you were smart."

She turned and walked away before he could see the tears in her eyes. She knew without question that if he went into a fight after severing all ties, he was willing to make it a fight to the death, and he didn't really care if it was the demon's or his own.

 

 

______________________________________________

 

"You're joking, right?"

Emma shook her head grimly. "I get the feeling David is about to try something stupid," she said. She had cornered Lance between classes, and as much as she couldn't tell him about demons, she could at least get one of his friends on side to watch his back. Mary Margaret wasn’t exactly in the mood to speak in calm tones, and Emma didn’t trust her not to let something slip about the supernatural aspect of David’s life. "He thinks he's found the guy who got his mom killed."

Lance winced. "That's not going to end well for anyone."

"Mary Margaret thinks he's on a vengeance trip," she said. "She'd have come to talk to you herself, but she's trying to keep an eye on him."

"Less suspicious than you watching him, I guess," Lance agreed. "What do you need me to do?"

Emma glanced around. "Just make sure you keep eyes on him while we're in school," she said. "Mary Margaret's been staking out his house to make sure he doesn't go off on some vengeance crusade, but right now, he just seems to be prepping."

"You got any idea who he's after?"

Emma shook her head grimly. Whoever David was hunting wasn't in plain sight, and David hadn't left any clues lying around. Emma had busted into his house to search for evidence, and found nothing. David wasn't exactly making things easy, either. "I thought it might be someone in the school," she said, "but he's not saying anything."

"You want me to ask?" Lance suggested. "He might talk to me."

Emma eyed him doubtfully. "Can you do subtle?"

"Ha!" Lance snorted. "I'm King of Subtle."

"I find that hard to believe," she said. She ducked back into a doorway. "He's coming," she said. "Get gone."

"I'll call if I find anything out," he said, heading off in the direction of the gym. 

Emma remained hidden in the doorway as David walked by. She saw him stop on the edge of the quad, looking out at Mary Margaret and Jeff as they hurried towards woodshop. As much as she was pissed at him for upsetting her friend, he looked like he was missing her, and that was better than nothing.

She emerged from the doorway after he moved on and headed in the direction of the library.

For all that Mr Gold was meant to ask Miss French for advice, he seemed to go goo-goo eyes at her a lot, and probably didn't ask everything he was meant to remember. Emma pushed the door of the library open. Miss French looked up from the counter with a smile.

"Miss Swan."

"Hey," Emma said, approaching the counter.

"Can I help you with something?"

Emma nodded. "You know David Nolan?" she said, leaning on the counter.

"The football player? Mr Gold mentioned he's on something of a vendetta."

Emma was surprised he'd remembered to mention that much. "He's after a demon that sent one of the Lovers after his family," she said. "We need to find out if there's a powerful demonic force in Storybrooke. Gold's done the best he can, but you have that demon."

Miss French's smile vanished. She rose from the desk. "I do," she said, stepping around the desk and heading for the cage where the more valuable books were stored. 

Emma followed her. "You hold the knife," she said. "You can control him and he could find out what's going on."

Miss French was still and silent, her hand resting on the handle of the cage's door. "You don't know what you're asking."

"I'm asking for help," Emma said quietly. "I'm trying to keep one of my friends safe."

Miss French turned and looked at her. "And you would make me summon a demon, at the risk of my own safety?"

"He wouldn't hurt you."

"Not physically, maybe," Miss French said, her voice even. "I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"Would you do it if Gold was in danger?"

Miss French's expression revealed nothing. "That is nothing to do with this. Please leave."

Emma breathed out noisily, but nodded. "Sorry I bothered you," she said, then turned and stalked out the library.

She didn't see the way Miss French fell back to lean against the cage, or the way she was shaking.

 

___________________________________________________

 

"Exciting news, huh?" Lance said, nudging David.

David was gazing into middle-distance, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes," he said. "It's good that politicians are taking an interest in young people."

"And look at you, all middle-aged and crotchetty," Lance snorted. "You got something against the Mayor?"

David looked at him, and there was a split-second before he laughed, a split-second that made Lance feel like his blood had turned to ice. "Why would I have something against the Mayor?" he said with a laugh that almost sounded completely genuine. 

Lance snorted. "With you, God knows," he said, knocking David's shoulder with his own. "You got Chem?"

David nodded with a grimace, getting to his feet. "You?"

"Advanced Math," Lance replied.

"Because that's so useful out in the real world," David said dryly. "I just find myself wondering 'what is the cosine of that there tangent?' all the time."

Lance swung his rucksack onto his back. "When the day comes that I'm a billionaire mathematician and you're a science jock who knows how to set gas on fire," he said sagely, "I will stand on the steps of my multi-million dollar mansion and pay someone to laugh at you."

"That's an oxymoron," David said.

"Science jock?"

"No," David replied, "Billionaire mathematician. You'd be lucky to get tenure."

Lance chuckled. "We'll see," he said. "Catch you at training."

David nodded, lost in thought as he headed off down the corridor.

Lance waited until he was out of sight, then took out his phone, dropping Emma a message. She ran into him at the bottom of the stairs.

"News?" she said.

Lance nodded. "I think he's gunning for someone in the Mayor's party," he said in an undertone. "We had some of them coming to talk at us about a presentation the Mayor's going to be doing for the Seniors next week. I don't think he'd be dumb enough to go after them in the class, but he's watching for someone."

Emma nodded grimly. "Figures that it'd be a power player," she said. "You know much about the Mayor?"

Lance shook his head. "He's been Mayor a long while now," he said. "Most people think he's okay. He keeps Storybrooke going steady: not too much, not too little. Apart from the weird deaths now and again, everyone thinks he's done a good job."

"What about his people?"

"There's a reason I don't plan on majoring in politics," he said with a rueful smile. 

Emma nodded. "Thanks," she said. "We'll look into it, see if we can dig up any dirt on any of them and find out which one David is aiming for."

Lance nodded in acknowledgement, and they parted, heading in opposite directions.

"So?" Mary Margaret said when Emma hurried back towards her and Jeff.

"This isn't our kind of thing," Emma said. "We're going to need Jeff to work his magic."

Jeff looked at them warily. "Magic-magic or the kind of stuff I can actually do?"

"Conspiracy theory," Emma said. "David's going after someone in the Mayor's office. We need you to find out who he's aiming for."

Jeff's face broke into a grin. "Hack the council?" he said. "I can do that."

Mary Margaret hushed him urgently.

"What?" Jeff said. "Everyone around here knows I'm all about sticking it to the man."

"One day," Emma said tartly, "you're going to get yourself arrested and I'm not gonna do a damn thing to stop it."

"We all know you'll bust me out," Jeff said.

Emma gave him a look. "Don't bet on it," she said. She jerked her head down the hall. "C'mon. We should look like we're trying to be good students."

Jeff snickered. "Don't bet on it," he echoed.

 

___________________________________________________

 

Mr Gold was puzzled when someone knocked on the door. The children were at school, and no one had any reason to come and visit. He opened the door to find Regina Mills standing there.

"Miss Mills?"

Regina's smile was for politeness' sake only. "Emma says you know about magic and meditation," she said. "I-I wanted to come while there was no one else around."

Gold nodded, opening the door a little wider to let her come in. "I heard about your father," he said. "How is he?"

"Better," Regina said quietly. "That's why I'm here. I-I think my mother was working with someone in town. It's not very clear, but I know there's something that she was trying to keep me from seeing." She looked at him. "Can you help me bring the memory out?"

Gold closed the door behind her, watching her curiously. "You know she probably put magical boundaries in place?"

Regina nodded. "But I don't want her to have done something that would harm anyone else," she said. "I know she was dealing with the vampire trader, but there's something she hid, and if she wanted to keep it hidden, it has to be something bad, doesn't it?"

As much as he wished he could comfort her, he knew she was right. "She doesn't seem the magnanimous sort." He motioned for her to follow him through to the shop. "I know some methods of hypnosis that might let you see the truth of your body's actions, instead of her intentions."

"Will it break her spells?"

He hesitated. "That would need to be your doing," he said. "Magic differs from person to person. Your mother's magic is probably similar to your own, by blood, but I don't think it's something I could undo."

Regina's face was pale. "She's sealed in the mirror. She can't get back here now, can she?"

Gold shook his head. "If you closed the barrier, then she has no power here anymore," he said.

Regina twisted her hands together. "When can we do it?" she asked.

"We can try and basic meditation just now," he said, "but if she has buried it deep, there may be some magic involved and I will have to get supplies for it."

"If it'll help, we need to do it," Regina said, as he led her through to the back of the shop. It had been put back in order after the demon's incursion, though some of the shelves had to be rebuilt. She looked around at the collection of tomes and grimoires with a shiver. 

Gold noticed, but said nothing, taking several books down from one of the shelves and leafing through them. 

"Is that a protection amulet?" Regina asked quietly, pointing to a medallion hung on the wall.

Gold looked up at it, then nodded. "That was what Emma wore to deflect your mother's spells."

Regina hesitated, then reached out and touched it. "Can I borrow it?"

Gold approached her and took it down from the hook. "If it will make things easier for you," he said, holding it out to her. 

Regina took it at once, wrapping her hand around the polished metal. "What if Emma needs it?"

"It isn't her only protection," Gold replied. "Now, if you'll take a seat, we can see if meditation will be enough."

 

_______________________________________

 

"I'm up! I'm up!" Jeff lifted his face off the keyboard. He squinted around his room in confusion, not sure what had woken him. It was dark, and a glance at his clock told him it was not even four o'clock in the morning. 

Something rattled against the glass.

Jeff scrambled up from his computer chair and hurried over to the window, pushing it open. Emma was standing on the grass below his window, looking up impatiently. Jeff beckoned her, and she scrambled up the trellis frame that clung to the wall, slithering in the window.

"Why didn't you just call me?" he complained in a whisper. 

"Because you haven't picked up your cell all weekend," she replied, throwing herself down on the end of his bed. "The Mayor is coming to the school today. You found any clues yet?"

Jeff rubbed at his eyes. 

He'd been working on his computer since he got home from school on Friday, and he hadn't realised just how long that had been. He settled back into the seat, stretching his arms over his head. His elbows cracked, and he winced, then put his hand back to mouse.

"I put a search on the CCTV footage," he said, yawning. A dozen images popped up onto the screen from the security cameras outside of the building, showing a face that Emma recognised. "We have a facial match with that vampire thief going into the city buildings."

"So David isn't wrong," Emma murmured. "Do you know who he was meeting with?"

Jeff shook his head. "The security on the feeds inside the building is much better than the general city security," he said. "It could be anyone, but I found this." Another image opened on the screen, this one pointing away from the building.

"Is that..."

"David," Jeff replied quietly. "He was staking out the building for three nights more than a week ago." He tapped several keys and brought up the image of City Hall and a map showing the building. "He was standing here, looking up at one of these windows."

"Only those windows?"

Jeff nodded. 

"Do you have a blueprint of City Hall?"

Jeff shook his head. "But I know what's in the top room," he said, turning on his chair to look up at her. "When I was a boy scout, I got taken along to City Hall. Civic pride or something. That room's the Mayor's office." He heard Emma swear, and nodded. "It might not be him. Might be someone close to him. But it's not good."

"We need to know if we're talking demon or human," Emma said. "If he's coming to the school, I can get a good look at the guy."

"Can you tell if people are demons?"

Emma hesitated. "I can sometimes," she said. "Not always, though, not if they're trying to look human."

"Maybe Gold can get something to unmask him, if he is?" Jeff suggested.

Emma scrambled up, nodding. "You get eyes on David when we get to school," she said. "If he tries to get anywhere near the Mayor, you get in his way. I'll see what Gold can give me. He's been working with Regina. She thinks her mom was involved."

Jeff looked back at the computer. "If it's the Mayor," he said, "what are you gonna do?"

Emma shrugged. "If he's responsible for what happened to David's family, I kill him," she said. 

"What if he's the one who did it and he's human?"

Emma was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," she admitted.

 

________________________________________________

 

"That's him," Regina whispered. "That's the one she was talking to."

She had managed to break through the memory barricade her mother had thrown up with a lot of work, but she was looking drawn and pale from exhaustion. The protection amulet was still around her neck, and she insisted on being at the school so she could identify the stranger in question. 

Mary Margaret grimaced. "So we're taking on the Mayor," she said, flicking open her phone to call Emma and let her know the party was on the way in. "There are so many ways this is going to go bad."

They were on the terrace that overlooked the quad, on the way to the cafeteria for recess, when the Mayor's entourage had arrived. The Mayor himself was at the centre of the huddle of people. He was a tall man, silver-haired and imposing. His suit was crisp and Mary Margaret just knew he would have manicures and perfectly white teeth. He was the kind of man who made himself look powerful.

Maybe he was a demon.

Maybe he was only a man. 

"Do you think we should stall him?" Regina asked, looking sideways at Mary Margaret. "If Emma's not ready..."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Emma's priority is making sure David doesn't do something stupid on the way in," she said. "Jeff has the stuff in place for doing the unmasking spell. He's going to set it up outside both of the doors from the lecture hall, so either way, if the Mayor's a demon, he won't be able to hide it."

"And if he is?"

Mary Margaret grinned crookedly. "That's where we come in," she said. "I've got weapons in my locker."

Regina stared at her. "How did you get them in here?"

Mary Margaret looked at her innocently. "Never ask a nerd her secrets," she said. She tugged on Regina's arm. "We can go and grab something to eat. I kind of have a feeling that we won't get much time for lunch, no matter how everything goes." 

 

 

_____________________________________

 

Dr Kunis sat down beside her desk and folded her hands in front of her.

The Principal was an imposing woman, and she knew how best to use it, her blonde hair dragged back severely, and her glasses halfway down her nose. The only sound was the rustle of her sleeves as she sat back in the chair. 

“Now,” she said, looking at the recalcitrant faces in front of her. “You four are going to tell me just what you think you were doing.”

Of all of the kids to be in trouble, she had expected it of Swan and Hatley, but the Blanchard and Mills girls had come as a surprise. Swan was sprawled in one of the chairs as if she couldn’t care less, while Hatley was picking ash from his shirt, frowning. 

Dr Kunis focussed her attention on Blanchard and Mills.

“Ladies,” she said. “Can you explain to me why you were seen carrying what I can only describe as a battleaxe in the school corridor?”

Blanchard blushed crimson.

Mills squirmed in her seat.

“History project?” Blanchard squeaked.

Hatley groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Dr Kunis arched an eyebrow and inclined her head. “History project?” she echoed. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Blanchard licked her lips anxiously. “Um. Yes. I-I’ve been doing a personal project into the advancements of warfare through the ages,” she said, the words tripping over themselves in their haste to escape. “H-how we’ve come from the battleaxe to the handgun in less than three centuries.”

“I suppose,” Dr Kunis said dryly, “I should count myself fortunate that you weren’t carrying a semi-automatic around with you.” She unfolded her hands, tapping her nails lightly on the desk. “I suppose you are claiming the same excuse, Miss Mills?”

Regina Mills looked up at her. Her expression was calm, but her eyes sparked defiantly, and for the first time, Kunis could see why the girl might fit in with the other three. “When you’re a cheerleader, sometimes the football players need more than ‘no’ for an answer,” she said. 

The Principal’s lips twitched, but she schooled her expression. “A drastic step up from mace, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sometimes, you need to cut them down to eye-level,” Mills replied.

Swan snorted, smirking. 

“This is hardly amusing, Swan.” Kunis turned to the obvious ring-leader. “You’ve been causing problems since you arrived here.”

Swan met her eyes. “I didn’t do anything this time,” she said evenly.

“No,” Kunis agreed mildly. “I suppose in your logic, knocking down a quarterback with a chair hardly merits notice.” Swan had the good sense to look uncomfortable. “You were seen kicking a chair at Nolan.”

Swan leaned back, folding her arms more tightly over her chest. “He dumped my friend. I wanted him to see how it felt to be hurt.”

Kunis studied her, then looked at the fourth of the group. Jeff Hatley was a frequent visitor to her office. He had a tendency for extremity. Not any particular kind. Just a general air of pushing things too far: people, science experiments, shopping carts. There wasn’t much he hadn’t done.

“The Mayor is rather unhappy with you, Mr Hatley,” she said. “Your little booby traps amused no one.”

Hatley fidgeted on his seat. “I had to check,” he said, meeting her eyes with his usual earnestness.

She sighed. “Check what?”

The boy blinked at her. “If he was a demon, obviously.”

Dr Kunis rubbed her brow with her fingertips. “This had better not be a repetition of the vampire incident,” she said, recalling the rain of mashed garlic that had left the school reeking for days afterwards. 

Hatley got a sharp nudge in the ribs from Swan, who rolled her eyes at him. “No,” he said, ducking his head. “It didn’t work anyway.”

The Principal tapped a nail on the desk. “Well, as much of a relief as it is to know that our Mayor isn’t a demon,” she said, looking at each student as she spoke, “and that our football players will learn the meaning of mutual consent and respecting their significant others, and that our history department is getting show and tell, your actions have reflected badly on the school.”

Nervous looks were exchanged by Mills and Blanchard, but Swan and Hatley merely looked at her in expectation, not without a glint of challenge in their eyes. 

Dr Kunis smiled.

She always liked to find a punishment to fit the crime. 

 

____________________________________

 

"Get out of my way."

Lance shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "You have that 'I'm going to do something stupid' look on your face."

David scowled at him. "You don't know what it's like."

"You're right," Lance agreed, "I don't. But I also don't want to see one of my friends locked up for killing a man."

"He's not just a man," David exclaimed.

"So what is he?" Lance said with an impatient sigh. "Some kind of boogeyman?"

David looked at him and said, deadly serious. "He's a demon."

Lance stared back at him. "David, listen to yourself," he said, grabbing his friend's arm. "You need to let it go. Tell the cops. Let them deal with it."

"You're not going to let me go, are you?" David said.

"Not if you're going to do something dumb," Lance said bluntly. "You know you can't take me."

The taser was a surprise. 

David caught him as his legs folded under him, twitching, and he was laid down on the nearest lawn. 

"I'm sorry," David said, squeezing his shoulder. "I have to do this."

Lance's tongue felt like it was swollen in his mouth and he tried to grab at David's arm, but David was running. By the time the feeling returned to his limbs, David was long gone, and Lance clumsily groped for his cell, hoping the electric current hadn't affected it.

He punched in Emma's number with tingling fingers. "Em? Got trouble," he slurred.

He was on his feet by the time Mary Margaret's car pulled up at the kerb, leaning heavily on a mailbox.

"What happened?" Emma demanded, leaping out the car to help him to the passenger side.

"He's going after the Mayor," Lance replied. "Talking crazy about him being a demon."

Mary Margaret paled. "Emma..."

"I know," Emma said tersely. She slammed the door, them climbed into the backseat. "Take us to the Mayor's."

Lance winced, pushing himself back against the seat. "What are you gonna do?" he asked.

"Kick his ass," Emma snapped.

"Mayor Spencer or David?"

Emma didn't look back at him. "Whichever one I have to."

Lance glanced at Mary Margaret, who was looking as grim as Emma. "Have you called the cops?" he asked, leaning forward and bracing his arms on the back of their seats.

"We don't know if they can deal with this," Emma said, as Mary Margaret accelerated onwards. Within minutes, they were pulling up into the good part of town, where all the biggest and best houses stood in neat and orderly rows. Emma leapt out of the car. "Stay put!" she called over her shoulder.

Mary Margaret pulled into the sidewalk, turning off the engine.

"You're just gonna let her run out there?" Lance said indignantly. "David's got a taser. God knows what else he's packing."

"Emma can take care of herself," Mary Margaret said, looking out through the windshield. "She said stay here, and I know she'd be pissed if I went after her."

Lance was silent for a moment. "Then she can be pissed," he said, pushing himself out of the car. His legs were shaking under him and he heard Mary Margaret shout, but he was running in the same direction as Emma, and he could hear the crash of a body hitting a fence at the side of one of the biggest houses.

"Emma!" he yelled, adrenaline surging through him. He used a trash can to leap a fence and landed almost on top of the unconscious form of David.

"Get out of here, Lance!" Emma snarled.

She was standing a dozen paces away, and she had a sword in her hand, facing the Mayor.

The Mayor who was surrounded by a shimmering dome of light and smiling darkly. "Bringing friends to a fight, Slayer? That's hardly considered fair play."

Lance grabbed David, shaking him and trying to haul him upright. "We are in so much trouble, man," he whispered, hoisting David up.

"You took out his family," Emma's voice was hard and cold. "You thought he wouldn't come after you?"

"His family?" The Mayor laughed. "Collateral. Nothing more."

Emma launched herself at him. She moved faster than Lance had ever seen anyone move, and she brought the blade down in a silver arc towards the Mayor. He couldn't have shielded himself, but the blade hit the dome with enough force to shatter, splintering blade flying in all directions.

"What the hell..." Lance breathed, shifting David's weight on his shoulder. 

"You think your little toys can harm me, Swan?" The Mayor seemed bigger somehow, and the glow around him was pulsing like a heartbeat. "I'm protected here. This is my town." He made a gesture, and Lance yelled as he and David were flipped into the air, suspended above Emma. "You can keep trying to attack me, or I can crush your friends. It's your choice."

"Are you afraid to take me on?" Emma snarled, pulling another blade from her back. 

The Mayor laughed, and Lance fought wildly against the invisible bonds holding him up. "You overestimate yourself, Miss Swan," he said. "But it isn't time yet." He curled his hand and Lance's shouts were stifled as the air was pulled from his lungs. "Not for us. But perhaps for your friends."

Emma looked up at them, and Lance felt invisible bands tighten around him, making him groan in pain.

"Let them go!"

The Mayor smiled and moved his hand slightly. Lance and David both dropped, landing in crumpled heaps on the ground. Lance struggled onto his feet, trying to pull up the unconscious David, drawing deep, gulping breaths.

"Don't forget, Miss Swan," the Mayor said, as Emma rushed over to them, "I know where your friends live, and they are so... fragile."

"You come near them," Emma spat, "and I swear to God I'll find some way to end you."

The Mayor ascended the wooden steps onto his porch. "I'm sure you'll try," he said. "Run along, now, before I call the police and have you arrested for trespass."

Emma glared at him as he walked into his house and closed the door. She turned her attention to Lance and David. "You okay to walk?" she asked. There was blood on her face where one of the shards of her sword had gashed her cheek. 

"I'm good," Lance said hoarsely, wedging his shoulder under David's arm. "Sleeping beauty here not so much."

Emma grabbed David's other arm, and they headed for the gate, David's feet dragging on the path beneath them.

 

_________________________________________________

 

It was just lucky that Henry was in bed. 

Mary Margaret sat on the edge of the unfolded mattress on the floor of Gold's shop, sponging blood from David's brow. He was still unconscious. Emma said he had been disarmed by the time she reached him, and she hadn't been able to stop the Mayor from blasting him into the fence. 

"You got any plans to explain what the hell that was about?" Lance asked. He had been plied with painkillers and was already showing bruises from whatever magic it was that the Mayor had cast to lift him in the air.

"Magic is real," Emma said, pacing back and forth impatiently. "And apparently, our honourable Mayor is covered in it."

Mr Gold bent over Mary Margaret to look at David. "He's not a demon, though?"

Mary Margaret looked up. "Jeff's spell showed pure human," she said. "Does that mean he's a wizard? Or something else?"

"Does it matter?" Emma said. "He's human and he's powerful and he didn't deny he was responsible for David's family dying."

"Wasn't targeted." David's voice was a rasping whisper. 

All of them looked down on him, as his eyes fluttered open.

Mary Margaret leaned down to wrap her arms around him, and gently helped him to sit up. She offered him a cup of water, searching his face. "Can you see straight?" she asked.

"Mm." He drained the glass and leaned back against the cabinet, breathing hard. 

"What can you tell us?" Gold said. "Did he give anything away?"

David shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. "He uses the Lovers as his footsoldiers," he whispered. "Doesn't command who to kill."

"Why the Lovers, though?" Emma said. "They're not exactly efficient, killing one-on-one."

"Lovers?" Lance asked, sounding bewildered.

"Demons," Mary Margaret said. "They feed on soul and life force when they embrace someone."

Lance blinked. "Huh. Sounds like my ex."

Mr Gold braced his hand on the counter. "There's power in soul-feeders," he said pensively. "If this man is commanding an army of them, he has to be getting something out of them."

"Maybe he feeds on them?" Mary Margaret suggested. "I mean not in a 'fava beans and a nice chianti' way. In a magic way?"

"It'd make sense, especially if the demons choose prey," David murmured. 

"The choice of prey makes a difference?" Gold said, sounding surprised.

David nodded. "The more powerful the emotion when they feed, the more powerful it makes them." He opened his eyes and looked up at Gold. "They can form shift to look like their dead victims." He took a slow breath through clenched teeth. "My mom thought she was hugging my brother when he came home from vacation."

Mary Margaret sank back to sit on her heels. "Oh God," she whispered. "You killed that one. You said you killed it, when it was feeding on your mom."

David closed his eyes again, nodded. "I did."

Emma looked away.

Mary Margaret closed her hand around David's, squeezing it hard. "We'll get him," she said fiercely. "We'll find a way."

"I'll help," Lance said.

They all looked at him, as if they had forgotten he was there.

"You shouldn't get involved, Lance," Emma said. "We're in a dangerous business."

Lance snorted. "I think it's too late for that now," he said, approaching the mattress where David was sitting. "Captain Commando here tried to play the solo hero. I'm not about to stand by and watch him try and do it again. If I join your club, I can keep eyes on him."

Mary Margaret looked up at him with a wan smile. "You don't get a button or anything," she said.

Lance squeezed her shoulder. "T-shirts?"

David's lips twitched. "We'll consider it," he murmured. He drew a breath, then opened his eyes again and looked up at Emma. "I might need to tag you in on this, Vampire Slayer."

Emma nodded. "Told you I'd be around if you needed back up," she said.

"Wait a second," Lance said. "Vampires are real too?" Emma nodded reluctantly. Lance looked at her and asked gravely. "Do they sparkle?"

David couldn't help laughing. 

 

_________________________________________

 

Two days had passed since the encounter with the Mayor.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" Jeff said, looking at the closed door.

Mary Margaret tried to smile. "We'll get through this," she said. "We just have to make them listen."

Jeff laughed in disbelief. "Yeah. That'll work." He rubbed his hands down his pants. "Why are we stuck with this?"

“Because the Principal has a sick sense of humour,” Mary Margaret said grimly. “Do you have the props?”

Jeff whimpered, and nodded, gathering up the box. “We who are about to die salute you,” he said with a nod to Mary Margaret, who opened the door and let them both into the lecture hall where every male sportsman in the school teams was waiting. 

Dr Kunis wasn’t one to give the obvious punishments. She had cheerfully declared that as they were all clearly causing trouble together, they could just as easily redistribute the punishments. In fact, she said, a gleam in her eyes, she would do it for them.

Jeff tried to hide as much as the box would allow, but Mary Margaret took a breath and strode up to the podium.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, bracing her hands on the edge of the podium. “Dr Kunis has kindly asked me to hold this seminar because she feels that you need to be told about the importance of respecting women. By a woman.”

She could see the Principal sitting in the back row, arms folded. The Principal raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“A-and Jeff Hatley is going to assist me.”

As far as mortifying events went, it could have been worse.

Mary Margaret figured it helped that she was dating one of the biggest football players, and the other one was one of her friends. They had hemmed in the team, and made it clear that attention was to be paid, especially for the test that followed. 

She stood by the door, collecting the quizzes in, until there was no one left but her, Jeff, David, Lance and Dr Kunis. The Principal descended from the back row, her heels clicking on the floor, and she stopped in front of Mary Margaret.

“Well-informed and well-presented,” she said with grudging approval, “but you could do with practising your public speaking, Miss Blanchard. There was some hesitation that could use work. On the whole, though, you made a very concise presentation.” She inclined her head to Jeff. “And you made a very apt object of affection, Mr Hatley. I’m sure this is a lesson our sportsmen won’t soon forget.”

Jeff flushed, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t see why I had to be the girl,” he complained under his breath as the Principal swept from the room.

“It was making a point, Jeff,” Mary Margaret said patiently, though she was still trying to ease her heart rate down from a buzz to a more regular beat. Speaking to so many people was terrifying, but she was sure she had seen a couple of the sophmores nodding attentively, and others looking surprised at what she was saying.

“Wasn’t it Regina and Emma who advocated respect for woman to Kunis?” Lance inquired.

“Yeah,” Jeff said packing up the props into the box. “But the dragon doesn’t play fair. Emma got to write an essay on warfare from historic times to the present, and Regina just had to clean up my mess, which I was going to do anyway.”

David helped Mary Margaret gather up the last of the sheets. “So we don’t get on the Principal’s bad side,” he said solemnly. “Understood.” He nudged Mary Margaret. “I never did thank you guys for doing that.”

Mary Margaret shrugged with a wan smile. “Well, we did find out that we’re dealing with something that isn’t human,” she said. “I guess it helped.”

“Didn’t stop him getting his butt handed to him, unfortunately,” Lance said.

“Lance!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

David shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s right. Just because I’d been doing this on my own doesn’t mean I should keep doing it that way. If he hadn’t shown up with Emma, I’d have been a mess on the sidewalk.”

Mary Margaret looked up at him. “Doing a lecture to you and your friends isn’t a bad price to pay for being useful,” she said.

“Could be worse,” Lance said. “Emma has a paper to do? That’s going to suck.”

“A paper about fighting,” Mary Margaret said with a crooked smile. “I think she’d going to be okay.”

“So the only person who was ritually humiliated in all of this was me?” Jeff said indignantly.

Lance slapped him companionably on the back. “Welcome to High school.”

Jeff looked from one face to the other. “When I get around to the world-domination thing, I’m not even going to give you guys a place in my council,” he said haughtily, then stalked out the door, carrying the box. 

Lance watched him go. “Is he always…?”

David and Mary Margaret nodded. 

“Oh yeah.”

“Always.”

Lance shook his head. “I end up with the strangest people,” he said, following Jeff out of the door.

Mary Margaret was about to follow, when David caught her by the arm.

“Mary Margaret, are we okay?”

She looked up at him. “I think we’re going to be,” she replied quietly. “But not yet.”

He nodded. “I can wait.”

One side of her mouth turned up. “Nice to see you were listening,” she said. She hesitated, then swatted him with the sheets in her hand. “Run along. I need to finish tidying up in here.”

David leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek. “We’ll talk later?”

She smiled, more brightly. “Later,” she agreed.

She watched him go, then looked down at the papers in her hand. They would be okay. She knew they would.


	15. Dreamy

Sleet was pattering against the window, adding texture to a cold, bleak night. There had been snow, and it was lying, thick and heavy, on the ground. No one with any sense was outside, and most of the houses in the street were dark already, even though it wasn't all that late.

Something about cold weather made the lure of a warm bed even more tempting.

Jeff turned off his monitor and rubbed his eyes.

Normally, he would have stayed up until he fell asleep over his keyboard, but he was feeling much sleepier than usual, and his eyes felt heavy. He kicked off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head, then fell face down onto his unmade bed.

It wasn't like him, he thought vaguely. Normally, a cup of sugared-up coffee and candy corn was enough to keep him up until the small hours of the morning. Tonight, neither of them had done anything, and the more he tried to fight it, the more tired he felt.

He forced his eyes open, groping along his bedside cabinet.

Ever since he'd started helping Emma, he'd collected amulets and charms. Some of them were cheap knock-offs, but some of them worked. The one he kept beside his bed had even impressed Gold. He felt it pulse under his fingers and tugged it from the drawer.

It felt like he was weighted down with lead as he dragged the chain over his head.

The power wrapped around him and his breath caught as the room came into sharper focus. The amulet was there to show things as they were. Things that were hidden would come into plain sight. 

The shadowy shape bent over him tilted its head. It was shapeless, churning, the surface of its body shifting and rippling like the dunes on a beach. It had eyes which looked like galaxies, dark and whirling with glittering starlight, and a shapeless limb shifted, becoming a hand. A slender finger touched what might have been its lips, gesturing for silence, and it blew softly.

Shimmering dust scattered across Jeff's face, and even as he opened his mouth to cry out, blackness wrapped around him. 

 

_________________________________________________

 

Henry was screaming.

Emma was out of her bed and into her brother's room before she was fully awake. It took her a second to realise she had a knife in her hand, but a quick glance around the room told her there was nothing there. She tossed the knife out the door and ran across the floor to kneel by her brother's bed, shaking him. "Henry," she whispered. "Henry, wake up."

Her brother's eyes flew open and he stared at her wildly. Emma groped for the bedside lamp, flicking it on, and she saw the terror vanish from his face. He almost threw himself out of the bed into her arms, his face hot and wet against her neck. 

Emma scrambled up to sit on the edge of the bed, holding him close. "It's okay," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his sweat-damp hair. "It's okay. I'm here. You're safe."

"You were hurt," Henry's voice was rough, his throat raw from screaming. 

She rubbed his back comfortingly. "I'm fine," she murmured. "Do I look hurt to you?"

He drew back to look up at her, his eyes flicking over her bare arms. Emma dared a glance down, relieved that for once, she didn't have a mark on her. The latest slayings had been easy and the marks had faded within hours. 

"Not this time," he agreed quietly, looking up at her.

She lifted her hand and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "I'm not hurt," she said, her thumb grazing his temple. "I'm here and I'm fine."

"But the bad man wants to hurt you," Henry said, sounding so much younger than his ten years.

Emma felt cold. "What bad man?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking down. "I heard you and Mr Gold talking in the shop," he confessed unhappily. "You said he was strong. That he threatened you."

Emma sat back. "Henry, when did you hear that?"

"When David was sick downstairs," he whispered. 

Emma ran a hand over her face. She'd left David in Mary Margaret and Lance's care, and taken Gold through to the shop to speak to him privately, two nights earlier. She hadn't even checked to see if her brother was there, because he was meant to be safe in bed. "Henry..." she began.

"I don't want you to get hurt," he said quietly. 

"I know," she said. She scooted closer and opened her arms, not at all surprised when he buried his face in her shoulder. She stroked his hair comfortingly. "I'm tough, kid," she said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "You don't need to worry."

"Promise?"

"Of course," Emma murmured. She continued to stroke his hair until his shivers subsided. He was exhausted and as he drifted back to sleep, she laid him back into the bed, tucking the blankets up to his chin. Emma leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Sleep well," she whispered.

It had been a long time since it was necessary, but as she withdrew from the room, she put on his nightlight. It wasn't much, but if he woke again, at least it wouldn't be in the dark. 

Gold was waiting outside the door. He inclined his head towards the kitchen. Emma nodded, trailing silently after him. He went to the refrigerator, fetching the milk, as she climbed up onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, propping her arms on the surface.

"Has he had night terrors before?" Gold asked quietly, pouring milk into a pan.

Emma nodded, folding her hands one around the other. "Not for a long time. He normally doesn't scream like that," she murmured, recalling with a shiver the fear in her brother's cries. There was only one time she could remember it, when they had been separated. The nights after they were reunited, she'd been woken by his screams and the bruises left by his fingers as he clung onto her.

"With a similar trigger?"

Emma hesitated, then nodded. "Being apart. Being hurt."

Gold was silent for several minutes, watching the milk in the pan. "He's a bright boy," he said finally. "He's wary, unsurprisingly, and that means he pays much closer attention to his surroundings than many other children his age would." He filled a mug with the warm milk and brought it over to her. "You can't hide what you are from him forever."

Emma shook her head. "He doesn't need to know his sister's a freak," she said quietly.

"Perhaps a hero," Gold murmured.

Emma wrapped her hands around the mug. "It's not being a hero if you don't have a choice," she said, looking down into the cup.

Gold offered her the bottle of honey. "He sees more than you realise," he said. 

Emma looked up at him. "I just want to keep him safe," she whispered, her eyes stinging. "He's seen so much bad stuff already. Can't I just keep him from knowing how much worse it can be?"

Gold sat down on the stool opposite. "Sometimes," he said quietly, "hiding it will only make things worse."

Emma nodded unhappily.

She didn't say anything more, and they sat in silence as the milk cooled in her mug.

 

 

__________________________________________________

 

Mary Margaret spread the newspaper on the table, frowning.

It had become a habit to search for any mysterious and unexplained incidents in Storybrooke in the morning news, even if The Mirror was hardly the most reliable source of information. There was no mention of the Mayor or any weird disturbances at the Mayor's house, but something else had caught her attention.

It was only a small article, but there was a photograph.

A crypt in one of Storybrooke’s neglected cemeteries had been vandalised. The heavy metal gates were broken off their hinges. Strange markings - gang tags, the writer speculated - had been painted on the door. Mary Margaret had been around Gold’s books often enough to recognise magical symbols. 

"Morning, sweetie."

Mary Margaret barely glanced up. "Morning, dad," she said.

He shuffled around the kitchen sleepily, opening doors and rattling dishes. Mary Margaret looked up in surprise when a bowl of cereal was placed in front of her, on top of the paper. 

"You need to eat," he said.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. "I was going to get something on the way to school," she said, but she pulled the bowl closer, digging the spoon into it. She returned her attention to the paper as she ate, scanning through the rest of the article.

"Something interesting?" Her father inquired.

Mary Margaret shook her head. "Nothing important,” she said. She folded up the paper and pushed it across the table to him. “Busy day?”

Her father shook his head. “Work,” he said. “The usual. How about you? You didn’t go out much with your friends this weekend.”

Mary Margaret shrugged, poking at her cereal. “They had family stuff on,” she said. 

She didn’t want to admit that she had been avoiding David since he went after the Mayor. She knew he was injured and recovering from the Mayor’s assault, but she was still both angry and hurt by his behaviour before that. She didn’t know if it made her cruel or justified in letting him deal with his hurts on his own.

Her father nodded, unfolding the paper, and settling down to read it.

Mary Margaret left him to it, fetching her backpack from the hall, and heading down the stairs to the front door. She’d been half-asleep when she fetched the paper in, but paused on the step, frowning, at the marks scratched into the step.

“What…?” she murmured, crouching down to touch them.

“Don’t!” 

Mary Margaret shrieked in surprise when Jeff leapt out of the bushes that lined the path and grabbed her wrist. “Jeff! What the hell…?”

Jeff stared at her, wild-eyed. His pupils were unnaturally wide, and he looked like he had been crawling around in the hedge all night. “Have to keep the door closed,” he whispered feverishly. “Keep the door closed and you won’t fall down the rabbit hole!”

Mary Margaret went onto one knee, holding his eyes. “I won’t touch it,” she said. Her heart was pounding and she knew her hands were shaking, but Jeff was staring at her, pleading and dazed. “Do you need me to do anything?”

He shook his head, releasing her wrist, uncurling a finger at a time. He buried his hands in his hair with a stifled whimper. “Have to keep it out,” he whispered, rocking on his knees. “It got in and I can’t make it go away.”

The door behind Mary Margaret opened, and Jeff shied back, flinching, wrapping his arms over his head.

“What’s going on?” Leopold Blanchard demanded.

“I think someone spiked his food,” Mary Margaret said, keeping her voice low. “Dad, call an ambulance. We need to get him somewhere safe.”

“Safe? Safe?” Jeff’s voice was breaking, trembling. “Might as well fall through the looking glass. Too late for safe.”

Mary Margaret moved closer, reaching out and gently taking Jeff’s face between her hands, lifting his head up. “Look at me, Jeff,” she said softly, waiting until his unfocussed eyes at least drifted over her face. “I’m here. I’m safe. I’m going to help you, okay?”

He reached out, clutching at her upper arms. His eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that bordered on desperation. “You’re safe in dreams,” he said, nodding urgently. “Made you safe in dreams. Can’t open a locked door.”

Mary Margaret could hear sirens approaching and looked up from Jeff. “Help’s coming,” she said, spotting the flashing lights a few blocks further down the road. She looked back at her friend. “You hold on, okay?”

What coherence he had left seemed to be fading, and he sank his fingers into his hair, rocking back and forth where he was sitting. Mary Margaret put an arm around him, but rose on her knees, waving urgently to the ambulance as it approached.

It stopped at the block over, apparently missing her completely.

That was when she noticed Mrs Brier, one of the ladies in the next block over, standing on the step, tears on her face. The paramedics hurried through the door, and Mrs Brier remained where she was, one hand over her face, like she couldn’t face going back into the apartment.

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispered.

“Are they here already?” Her father emerged from their door.

Mary Margaret shook her head, looking up at him. “I think something happened to Rose.”

“And your friend too?” Her father glanced over. Mrs Brier had retreated into the building, the door closing quietly behind her. “There must be something going on in the neighbourhood. Maybe there’s been a leak or something.”

Mary Margaret looked down at the mark carved into the step. “Maybe,” she agreed. 

 

________________________________________________

 

“Where is he?”

Lance pushed off from the wall. “They’ve taken him into the psych unit,” he said. “Mary Margaret and her dad are talking to the police.” He led her into the hospital. “The cops think he might have been on something.”

“Jeff?” Emma shook her head. “He doesn’t need anything. He knows what’s out there. He wouldn’t leave himself helpless like that.”

“That’s what Mary Margaret said,” Lance agreed. “She asked me to wait for you. Said she’d be stuck talking to the police about it. Since they aren’t family, she can’t get near him, but you might be able to.”

“Why can’t you?” 

Lance looked at her, with a quick, wry smile. “People in Storybrooke aren’t exactly imaginative when it comes to who can be related,” he said. “His parents are both out of town again. Mary Margaret says he has a cousin called Grace. Mary Margaret tried to reach her, but no luck.”

Emma grimaced. “So I’m Grace?” 

“For now,” Lance said. “He needs someone in there who knows how to speak to him, and I know he’d want you.”

Emma nodded. “Point me in the right direction.”

It took them nearly fifteen minutes of wandering the corridors to find the right wing, and Emma approached the nurses’ station.

“I’m looking for Jeff Hatley,” she said. “I was told he’s down here? He’s my cousin.”

The nurse studied her, then rose. “The doctor is with him at the moment,” she said. “He may want to speak to you.” She led Emma passed several identical doors, then tapped lightly and opened the door onto a small, private room. 

A tall, red-haired man was standing by the bed, talking in a soothing voice to Jeff, who was lying on the bed. Jeff was in a hospital gown, and the blankets were a tangle around his legs, even though his ankles and wrists were restrained.

“What the hell?” Emma demanded, storming closer. “Why is he strapped down?”

The man looked at her in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“The cuffs! Why is he cuffed?”

The nurse cleared her throat. “This is Mr Hatley’s cousin.”

“Ah.” The doctor inclined his head. “Mr Hatley has been doing himself some damage, Miss…?”

“Emma.”

“Emma,” the doctor echoed. “Well, he’s been clawing at himself and pulling his hair out, and it seemed to be escalating when he tried to explain what happened. We thought that it was better to restrain him for his own well-being. I was just telling him we could undo the cuffs now that he’s calmer.”

Emma’s eyes flicked to the doctor’s name, stitched on his lapel. “Can I have a few minutes alone with him, Doctor Hopper? Is he safe?”

The doctor smiled gently. “If he starts getting over stimulated or anxious, just call on us,” he said. “He should be okay for the moment. We had to give him some tranquilisers to calm him, so he’s better than he was.” He undid the wrist cuffs, but left the ankle ones loosely fastened. “Just a precaution.”

Emma nodded, watching Jeff, who was staring at her with a glassy, fixed look.

She waited until she heard the door closed, then reached down and took Jeff’s hand. “Hey.”

Jeff’s lips trembled, his head pressing back against the pillow. “Mr Sandman,” he sang in a shaking whisper. “Bring me a dream. Make it the nicest… nicest…” He pushed back against the pillow, arching his back. “Came. Dreams. Had to close the door for snow.”

“Can you describe it?” Emma asked in a whisper. “What did this?”

He shook his head from side to side, humming the song again, as he groped at his neck, as if trying to find something. His eyes widened, then he screamed. “My lock and key! It keeps it from me!” He grabbed at Emma’s arms urgently. “They took the key and left it all unlocked! I need my key back in the lock! My key!”

His screams drew the doctor, who hurried in, the nurse close at hand.

“Back off!” Emma snapped, holding Jeff firmly down. He was whimpering, clutching at her arms, and she looked over her shoulder at the doctor and nurse in the doorway. “Did he have something around his neck when he was brought in? A medallion or necklace or something?”

The doctor looked at the nurse who nodded, and raced out to fetch it.

“A lucky charm?” Hopper said.

“Something like that,” Emma replied grimly, holding Jeff steady. “It’s coming, Jeff, and until it does, I’m right here, okay?”

His fingers tugged at her sleeves spasmodically. “Can’t see without eyes,” he informed her, his voice quivering. “I want to see. I don’t want to be blind.”

Emma’s hand shook as she stroked his hair gently. “I know,” she said. “You need to see to help me fight. I know.”

The smile that crossed his face was tired and broken. “You noticed?”

“Of course I did, you ass,” she whispered. “You’re my back-up guy, remember?”

“Here.” The nurse had returned and Emma flinched in surprise when her hand appeared at Emma’s shoulder. There was a chain dangling from her fingers with a rune-marked stone, and Emma didn’t have to have Gold lecturing her to know it was both a protection amulet and something to provide clarity of vision. 

“Jeff,” Emma said, trying to at least sound calmer than she felt. “Lift your head. I have your necklace.” 

With some negotiating, she managed to get it over his head, and she saw the way his eyes flicked around the room, as if seeking an enemy. He must have seen nothing, because he fell back against the pillows, breathing raggedly. 

“There,” Emma said softly. “Better now.” She drew back, as Jeff closed his eyes, humming again, his trembling hands coming to rest over his chest. She turned around to face Hopper, who was watching her curiously. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?” she asked quietly.

The doctor shook his head. “He’s never had an episode like this before?”

“Never,” Emma murmured, looking back at him.

“Does he take any recreational drugs?”

Emma shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

The doctor nodded solemnly. “We’ll have to do some bloodwork and see if there’s anything that could be causing hallucinations, but the best we can do for him now is make him comfortable and keep him under observation.”

“Thank you,” Emma said quietly. She clenched her hands into fists. “I can’t stay. Can I leave my number?”

“Of course,” the doctor murmured. “The nurse will take your details.”

Emma returned to Jeff’s side, stroking his brow. “You stay here and get some rest, okay?”

He looked up at her imploringly. “Close the curtains and the doors,” he whispered hoarsely. “Keep safe.”

“I will,” she promised, a lump in her throat, as she retreated from the room and into the hall outside.

"So how is he?"

Emma rubbed a hand over her face, then looked up at Lance. "Not good," she said. "He's not making any kind of sense."

Lance glanced around, then touched her arm, leading her over to an alcove. "He's not the only one brought in with strange symptoms," he murmured, looking around warily, as if he suspected people might be listening. "Mary Margaret's neighbour was brought in too. I heard the nurses talking."

"Talking crazy too?" Emma asked quietly. 

Lance shook his head. "She's in a coma," he said in a low voice. 

Emma frowned. "Could just be medical," she said.

"When Jeff was keeping something like the boogeyman out of Mary Margaret's place?" Lance countered. "If something was going after Mary Margaret, who's to say it didn't take the nearest person who was something like her: same age, similar build, female."

Emma felt sick. "It went after Jeff first, then Mary Margaret," she said quietly. "Vulnerable people, right?"

Lance stared at her. "You don't think the Mayor's doing this?"

Emma shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. She looked down the hall, stepping back out at the sight of Mary Margaret. Her friend rushed to her, hugging her tightly. Emma could only pat her on the back, nodding silently to Mary Margaret's father, who withdrew to talk to the medical staff.

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret whispered.

"We don't know," Emma said. She looked back across the hall into the ward, where Jeff was motionless in the bed. "But we're going to find out." She looked from one to the other. "Lance, I need you to find out what you can about the girl next door. Mary Margaret, you know Jeff's place. Go and look for any traces of anything weird. I'll need to report as much as I can back to Gold. If something's coming after us, we need to get defences in place."

Mary Margaret nodded. She fished a folded piece of paper out of her pocket, pushing it into Emma's hand. "He'd scratched this into the front step," she said. "Mr Gold might be able to identify it."

Emma shoved it into her pocket as Mr Blanchard approached.

"You kids doing okay?" he asked.

"Shocked," Emma said. "He was okay yesterday."

Mr Blanchard's expression suggested he had suspicions what might have changed, and Emma tried her best to ignore it. "Well, he's in the best possible hands now," he said. He laid a hand on Mary Margaret's shoulder. "We should get you to school, Mary Margaret." He glanced at Lance and Emma. "Do you need a ride too?"

Lance shook his head. "I've got my car with me," he said. "I'll bring Emma."

Mary Margaret raised a hand in a weak wave. "I'll see you guys later."

Emma waited until they were out of sight, then pulled the paper out of her pocket and stared at it. "Oh, this isn't good."

 

_______________________________________________

 

Gold examined the paper.

"On the step?"

Emma nodded, pacing back and forth across the shop floor. "You didn't see him, Gold," she said. "He wasn't making any sense." She swung around and came back to the counter, where Gold was leafing through books. "Do you know what it does?"

Gold nodded grimly. "It's a powerful protection marker," he said. "He must have been desperate to use this."

"Or crazy?"

Her Watcher looked up from the books. "No," he said with certainty. "He knew what he was doing. Whatever is affecting him, he managed to keep enough control of himself to prevent it from reaching Miss Blanchard." He turned another book around, displaying an image. "The medallion he was wearing: was this it?"

Emma bent over the book, then nodded. "Looks like some tacky necklace," she said. 

"It's a particularly powerful amulet," Gold said. "It grants clarity of vision and protects from powerful magics."

"Protects?" Emma echoed. "Then how did he end up in the psych ward?"

"You said there was another girl taken into the hospital? A neighbour of the Blanchards'?"

"Rose Brier," Emma said with a nod. "Last I heard, she was classed as comatose. Lance and Mary Margaret have asked as much as they can. There was no mark on her, and the doctors haven't been able to find anything to cause it."

Gold tapped his fingers on the edge of the table, a pensive look on his face. “Perhaps, that was the fate that was meant to befall young Jeff,” he said. “The amulet he was wearing would have prevented the worst of the affects of any dark magic, but it couldn’t block everything. If he saw what was attacking him, that may be how he knew to defend against it.”

“So it was going after Mary Margaret?”

Gold shook his head. “We can’t be sure of that,” he said, “but whatever it was doing, I don’t think it was coincidence that two of your friends were targeted.”

“You think it was the Mayor too?”

“Do you?”

Emma shrugged helplessly. “He said my friends were the ones that were vulnerable. Why would he say that if he wasn’t gunning for them?”

Gold was silent for a moment. “You said he threatened to come after them if you made moves against him and his,” he said. “Have you been doing that?”

“I haven’t,” Emma said quietly. “I can’t, until I know who his are.”

“What about Nolan?”

“What about him?”

“I know you appreciate his help,” Gold said, “but you can’t deny that occasionally, he tends to run off half-cocked and get himself in trouble. The scars he has attest to that.”

Emma rubbed her face. “I guess he could have done something,” she agreed. “I’ll go and talk to him.”

“Your friends are looking into the Hatley house?”

Emma nodded. “Mary Margaret has Jeff’s spare key,” she said. “His parents are out of town again, so she went to have a look around with Lance.”

“A wise choice,” Gold agreed. “She knows best not to move anything around.”

Emma winced. “Yeah,” she said. “She’s seen how edgy Jeff can be if his stuff isn’t exactly how he left it.”

Gold got up from the stool. “I’ll look further into the creatures that can be held at bay by Mr Hatley’s medallion and the mark on the doorstep,” he said. “If you learn anything from Nolan, let me know as soon as possible.”

Emma nodded. “Jeff’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” she asked quietly.

Gold hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

Emma’s hands clenched and unclenched by her sides. “Find out,” she said through gritted teeth, then she swung around and headed for the door.

 

_____________________________________________

 

“So he was nuts before this happened, right?” Lance peered up at a strange contraption of glittering metal that was suspended from the ceiling.

Mary Margaret looked around the chaos of Jeff’s bedroom. Furniture had been knocked over, as if he was searching for something and he didn’t know where it was or was too frantic to move anything carefully. 

“I think calling him a creative thinker is a better way to look at it,” she said. She made her way carefully across the floor, using the few clear spots as stepping stones. You saw what we’re dealing with, Lance. Jeff’s always known it was there. The rest of us were going around with our eyes closed.”

“How long have you known about it?”

Mary Margaret paused by the desk. “Since Emma came to town,” she said. “She saved me from some kind of demons.”

“You could have told me,” he said reproachfully.

Mary Margaret glanced over her shoulder at him with a crooked smile. “And tell you how?” she asked. “Hey, Lance. Guess what. Demons and vampires and magic are all real. If you thought Jeff was nuts, what would you have called me?”

“Touché,” he said with a rueful smile. “I guess I just figured I would have noticed something this big.”

“It’s one of the things they teach you when you’re growing up,” she said, turning back to the desk. “Bad things aren’t real. We learn not to look at things that can’t possibly be happening around us.” 

She searched the surface of the desk for clues. Books were scattered around, and she could see a page was torn out of one of them. She picked it up, closing it. The cover was in some ancient language she didn’t recognise, but there were a collection of symbols on it that she knew Gold would probably understand.

“I’m guessing he wouldn’t normally tear his bed covers to shreds?” Lance asked. 

“No,” Mary Margaret said, tucking the book under her arm.

“Well, something scared him when he was in his bed or on it,” Lance said. He held up one of the sheets, and Mary Margaret could see where fingers had torn through it. “Unless demons have fingers too?”

“Some of them do,” Mary Margaret said, approaching and touching the sheets. “Some of them don’t.” She glanced at the bedside cabinet, then frowned. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

She reached down into the half-open drawer. “Jeff doesn’t wear glasses.” The pair she lifted out were strange to say the least. The metal was mottled with age, and the glass was angled like a prism, with a pointed tip rising from the centre of the lens.

“They look like something steampunk,” Lance said, holding out his hand.

Mary Margaret handed them over. “You know about steampunk?”

He flashed a smile at her. “I know I’m a jock, but I do have access to that thing called ‘the internet’,” he said. “I’m cool like that.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “Sure you are,” she said fondly.

Lance unfolded the glasses, turning them this way and that. “Whoa!”

“What?”

He put them on and crouched down, staring at the bed. With one hand, he drew the undamaged sheet into a slope, and with a scrap of paper held in the other, it looked like he was scraping the sheet down. 

“Find a cup or a bowl or something,” he said. “There’s something here.”

Mary Margaret ran to the bathroom and brought back the cup from the sink. “Here.”

Lance used the piece of paper to scrape up whatever it was, then tipped it into the cup. “You said Gold wanted us to find something strange,” he said, taking off the glasses and handing them to her. “Take a look.”

Mary Margaret took the glasses, putting them on, and peered into the cup. She drew back, taking the glasses off. “What is that?” she asked.

“Damned if I know,” Lance replied. “But I’d say that counts as strange, right?”

“Definitely,” Mary Margaret agreed. “We should get it to him.”

 

___________________________________________________

 

 

The door was meant to be closed.

No one was meant to be bothering him.

And yet, it seemed that someone wanted to.

Mayor Spencer set down his pen and raised his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

The man standing in the doorway looked back at him implacably. “Perhaps,” he said.

Spencer studied him as he walked into the office, leaning on his cane. “Ah, yes,” the Mayor said with an amused smile. “The Watcher. Has your little pupil sent daddy to clean up her mess?”

The Watcher’s expression revealed nothing, as he sat down calmly in the opposite chair. “I hear you have been causing some of the problems that my Slayer has been facing,” he said placidly, his hand resting lightly on the handle of the cane. “Working with the Lovers and other less… savoury actions.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Sometimes, a man does what he has to do to get by in the world,” he said. “Unsavoury associations can’t be helped. After all, I heard who you were married to. How long did it take you to finally kill the demon that was your wife, Gold? Ten years? Fifteen?” 

There was a flicker of emotion, barely there then it was gone. “Does it matter?” he said. “I think the important thing is that she is dead.”

Spencer chuckled. “Charmingly callous,” he said. “So, Watcher, what brings you to my door?”

The Watcher studied him. “Curiosity,” he said. “You’ve made my Slayer your enemy. You threatened her friends and family. I simply wanted to know who we are dealing with.”

Spencer spread his hands with a mocking smile. “Well, I’m no witch with mirror magic and delusions of greatness,” he said. “I didn’t make the same mistake of harbouring my ambitions in a child without a bone of ruthlessness her body.”

“I don’t doubt you’d send someone after my girl’s friends,” the Watcher said quietly. “It would be the best way to weaken her, as you so astutely observed.”

“Children these days are so caught up in their relationships,” Spencer agreed. “You tell your girl that as long as she doesn’t get in my way, and as long as she keeps her playthings out of my business, they’ll be free to live their little lives.”

“If she or her friends kill any rogue Lovers?”

Spencer shrugged. “I may have bonded with them,” he said, “but if they’re stupid enough to feed when there’s a Slayer on patrol, they had what’s coming.” He smiled just enough to be threatening. “Demons, after all.”

He saw the way the Watcher’s expression tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “And if she happens to accidentally affect you and yours?”

“She knows the forfeit.” Spencer sat up, folding his hands on the desk. “Is your curiosity slaked, Watcher? Or are you hoping I will give something away? Some little hint of what might be coming?”

“I think that would be hoping for too much,” the Watcher said dryly.

Spencer picked up his pen and smiled thinly. “Indeed.” He pointed towards the door. “Close it on your way out, if you don’t mind.”

The man made his way to the door, pausing there to look back. “Will the results be… terminal?”

Spencer chuckled, putting pen to paper. “What makes you think I would be so merciful?”

“I thought so,” the Watcher murmured. “Thank you for your time.”

The door closed silently behind him.

 

________________________________________

 

“What is it?”

Lance adjusted the frame he had constructed on the counter, setting the lenses of the glasses over a tray on the desk. As far as Emma could see, there was nothing on the tray. “We’re not sure,” he said. “We brought it back here, but Gold wasn’t around, so I got it set up so he can check it when he gets back.”

Emma nodded. “Good idea,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at David and Mary Margaret who were talking quietly near the front of the shop. She didn’t need to look around to know Lance was watching her watch them. “You think they’ll be okay?”

Lance sighed. “Nolan can be pretty stubborn,” he said, “but I think having his ass handed to him by an old guy has shaken him up a bit.”

“It’s the magic,” Emma murmured. “Magic screws people up.” She looked over at David. “At least he’s not been trying to fight the Mayor himself again.”

Lance leaned on the edge of the counter beside her. “How do you beat someone who can do magic?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

Lance nudged her shoulder with his own. “Mary Margaret told me what you’ve done around here,” he said. “You’ll find a way.”

She looked up at him. “Ah. She’s been doing the ‘Emma is such a hero’ thing, hasn’t she?”

“You think you’re not?”

She shrugged, folding her arms self-consciously. “I was born with this life already planned out for me,” she said. “I didn’t get a choice. It’s not heroic if you have to do it. Heroes are the people who make the choices.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “She’s right, you know,” he said.

Emma snorted. “How’d’you figure?”

“You don’t have to do it,” he said. “You could run off and live as a prize-fighter in Vegas and be rolling in cash, but here you are, in this little town in the backside of nowhere, fighting demons and saving people. That’s pretty damn heroic to me.”

Emma stared at him, then looked away, flushing. “It’s no big deal.”

Lance didn’t get a chance to say anything more, because the door opened and Gold came into the shop. He didn’t look surprised to see them.

“Where’s Henry?” Emma asked, looking beyond him.

“He went to play at Nicholas’s house,” Gold replied. “I thought it might be easier to discuss business, if he ate elsewhere.”

Emma nodded curtly. “You guys want to show him what you’ve found?”

Mary Margaret approached. “We had a look around at Jeff’s place,” she said, setting an ancient book down on the counter. “I found this book with a page missing, on top of all the others on his desk.”

Gold picked it up, leafing through it, his lips moving as he scanned the text. “This is where he must have found the symbol he carved on your step,” he said. “It’s probably the symbol on the missing page.”

“Did you identify it?” Emma asked. 

Gold nodded. “It’s a sign to guard against the night,” he said.

“Just the night?” David said. “Isn’t that kind of general?”

“It can mean anything demonic or magical that is moving in the night,” Gold clarified. “From what I understand, it acts as a cloak for a house during the night.”

“So Rose? The girl next door?”

Gold looked at Mary Margaret. “I believe she was a victim of the creature that was coming after you.”

“It was targeting my friends, then?” Emma’s voice was brittle. 

“But it wasn’t the Mayor,” Gold murmured. “I’m sure of that.”

The Slayer looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know?”

“That doesn’t matter at the moment,” Gold said. He nodded to Lance’s metal frame. “What do you have there?”

“Something we found in Jeff’s room,” Lance said, hooking his thumbs into his belt, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to present what he had found. “Mary Margaret found a strange pair of glasses in Jeff’s things, and when we looked through them, we found something strange on the bed.”

“On the tray?”

Lance stepped back. “We didn’t touch it. Scraped it up into a cup and made sure not to get it on our skin.”

Gold bent over the frame and looked through the lenses. “Sand?”

“That’s what we thought,” Lance said. “It looks like volcanic sand from the colour, but if it can’t be seen by the naked eye, it has to be something supernatural, right?”

Gold straightened up. “A creature of sand that comes in the night,” he said quietly. “Something that puts people to sleep. It can’t be that simple.”

“The sandman?” Mary Margaret said in disbelief.

“Oh God,” Emma whispered. “Jeff. That’s what he was singing in the hospital. He was trying to tell us all along.”

“On purpose?” Lance asked. “He was pretty screwed up.”

Emma nodded. “He managed to keep it together long enough to protect Mary Margaret,” she said. “There’s some part of him holding on in there.”

Gold walked through to the back of the shop and returned a moment later with a book. He was reading it as he walked and he laid it down on the counter. “The Sandman is a benevolent creature,” he said. “Whatever this thing is, its working on the same principles: putting people to sleep and bringing dreams.”

“Dreams?” Emma stiffened.

“It’s one of the Sandman’s traits,” Gold said with a nod.

Emma snatched the glasses off the metal frame and ran for the stairs up to the apartment above the shop. She returned a moment later, Henry’s pillow in her hand, her expression taut.

“It’s been getting in here,” she said, setting the pillow down on the counter. “That’s why Henry’s nightmares have been getting worse.” She handed the glasses on to Gold, who examined the pillow through them. “You said this Sandman is a good guy. What changed?”

“Whatever this thing is, it sounds like the opposite of the Sandman,” Gold said.

“Like its mirror?” Mary Margaret said quietly. 

Emma and Gold both looked at her, then at one another.

“It can’t be,” Emma said. “She’s trapped in there.”

“She’s not just closed in a mirror,” Gold replied. “There’s another world on the other side of the mirror, another dimension, where nothing is quite as it is here.”

“Other dimensions?” Lance said incredulously. “What have I been missing?”

“Long story,” Mary Margaret said. “Mr Gold, do you think this could be the Sandman from there?”

Gold rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips. “I’m not certain,” he said. “It’s certainly not the Sandman as it should be.”

“Can we catch it?” Emma said tersely. “Before it puts anyone else under?”

Gold was silent for a long while. “I think I might need to make inquiries. If this creature is invisible to the naked eye, you might not be able to touch it either.”

Emma clenched her hands into fists. “Find a way,” she said. “Mary Margaret, I need you to look after Henry tonight. If that sign on your step kept this thing out, then it means your place is safe. If it tries coming after him again, I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll call my dad,” Mary Margaret said. “Let him know.”

“Can I do anything to help?” David asked.

Emma nodded. “I need you at the hospital,” she said. She looked at the glasses. “We can split them into parts. You can take a lens with you and watch out for it if it comes after him again.”

“What about me?” Lance asked.

Emma looked at him. “You’re a science jock, right?”

Lance nodded. “Physics, bio, and chem,” he agreed.

“Find out what this thing is made of,” she said. “We need to find a way to stop it, and if we have to, kill it.”

 

__________________________________________________

 

The hospital wards were quiet, with last medicine rounds being done as night fell.

David always had hated hospitals, but Emma needed him to be there, and she’d saved his life, so he was there. He knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy to learn he’d been babysat by a football player, but he was too out of it to even notice right now.

“She’s worried about you, kid,” David murmured, folding his arms on the rails on the edge of the bed. “If you don’t get put right, she’ll blame herself.”

Jeff didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t quite unconscious, his eyes cracked open to slits, and his lips were moving in inaudible mumbles. They had restrained him again, padded cuffs around his limp arms, and the nurses had advised David that sedation had become necessary.

David watched him for a long while.

“You saved Mary Margaret from this thing, Jeff,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to forget that. And I’m not going to let anyone else forget it.” He reached over the rail and laid his hand on Jeff’s sweat-slicked brow. Jeff shivered, his eyes flickering beneath his half-closed lids. “We’re going to get you back, you hear me?”

He turned when he heard the door open behind him.

“We need to do some checks before the shift change,” the nurse said apologetically. “Could you wait in the hall, please?”

David rose at once. “Is there somewhere I can get water?” he asked.

“There’s a cooler down the hall on the right,” she replied.

David withdrew from the room and headed down the hall. There was someone else already standing at the cooler, and he looked pale and drawn. Judging by his clothing, he was a visitor and not a patient.

“Hey,” David murmured.

The young man turned, clearly startled. He looked like he had been dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night some time before and hadn’t slept since. “Oh. Hello.” His accent definitely wasn’t American. He stepped aside. “Sorry. Didn’t realise someone else wanted the fountain.”

“No problem,” David said. He filled one of the paper cups, taking a gulp, then looked at the other guy. “Visiting?”

The guy nodded, turning his half-empty cup in his hands. “My girlfriend,” he said, glancing down the hall. “She’s asleep and they can’t find a reason why.”

David startled. “Rose Brier, isn’t it?”

“You know her?”

“She lives next door to my girlfriend,” he said. “Mary Margaret Blanchard?”

The other man smiled wanly. “Ah, yes. Rose mentioned her.” He frowned. “She’s not in here too, is she?”

“No,” David said. “Friend of ours is, though. His parents are out of town, so I said I’d stay with him.”

“Good of you.” He sighed. “Rose’s parents needed rest. I told them I’d stay.” He laughed unsteadily. “I don’t know how much use I can be, if all I’m doing is sitting.”

“Talk to her,” David said. “You know they say that people who are unconscious can hear voices of people talking to them. Maybe it’ll reach her, wherever she is in her mind.”

“Maybe,” the other man agreed. His smile was brief, tired. “Thank you.”

“I only wish I could help,” David said. He held out a hand. “I’m David.”

“Philip,” the other man said, clasping his hand then releasing it. “And no offence, but I really hope we don’t run into each other again.”

David laughed briefly. “Yeah,” he said. “The sooner we’re both out of here with our people, the better.”

Philip drained the contents of his cup. “Here’s to the night watch,” he said. “I hope your friend gets better.”

“You too,” David said. “And keep talking to her. Anything that might help.”

Philip nodded. “I’ll try it,” he said. He put his fingertips to his brow in a half-salute. “Time to get back to my post.”

“Good luck.”

Philip nodded, straightening his back as he turned away.

David watched him go, wondering what he would have done if the demon had got Mary Margaret, as it originally intended. The same thing, he figured. Sit by her bedside and hold her hand and hope that she would wake up.

He finished his own cup of water and returned to Jeff’s room.

 

___________________________________________________

 

The curtains were closed and the nightlight was off.

Faint cracks of light slithered beneath the door and between the curtains.

The shape in the bed was curled up in a tight ball under the covers. It was not an easy target to reach, this small child. There were defences around the building that made it a challenge to enter, and the child could not be controlled. Only his dreams could be fed, and they were fed with such terror and darkness that it was delicious.

The newcomer had told him this child was filled with fear, and she spoke true.

The floor was not as smooth as before.

Thick fabric had been laid beside the bed. No doubt for warmth, for comfort.

It approached, gathering the dust of nightmares to lay them upon the boy.

The air rippled and sang strangely, sound dulling, and all at once, it found that it could not move forward, nor back. A hoarse cry of surprise tore from its throat, and the figure on the bed pushed back the covers, sat up.

Not the boy-child. His sister. The Slayer. The one that the newcomer hated. The one the newcomer wanted to suffer. The newcomer had given it a way into this world on the condition that it made her hurt.

Mortal eyes were feeble, though, and could not see what stood before it.

She rose from the bed, looking around, a lens at her eye.

It almost laughed at the girl killer’s foolishness, until she looked straight at it and smiled.

She could do it no harm, not a creature such as itself.

Then she punched it so hard that it fell back, landing upon the floor. The creature shrieked in shock and outrage, and she leapt. She was upon it, as if it were mortal matter, flesh and blood, and her hands were cruel and hard.

Emma punched the thing until it stopped twitching. It was almost humanoid in shape, and its struggles flipped back the bedside rug that had been covering the sigils and runes.

“It worked?”

Emma looked up at Gold in the doorway. “You still can’t see it?”

The Watcher shook his head. “But I can hear it,” he said. “And clearly, it’s got physical form now, if you’re hitting it that hard.”

The Slayer looked down at black, glittering eyes. “I’ll say,” she said. “You get the doors open for me. I’m taking this thing to the basement to get it shackled up.”

Within ten minutes, the demon was chained to the bars of the cell in the basement, hissing and wailing and recoiling from the bars.

“Looks like acid works on pretty much anything, huh?” Lance said. He was standing by the work bench, his arms folded over his chest, watching Emma as she pulled the chains tight around something he couldn’t quite see. There was an outline, faint, like the edge of a candle flame, but not clear.

“Looks like,” Emma said, adjusting the lens over her right eye. “Now, friend, we’re going to have a little talk about you and where you came from.”

The demon hissed at her.

Emma studied it, then punched it hard enough to knock its head back against the bars. “I don’t think you understand me,” she said. “You scared my brother. You hurt my friends. You put an innocent girl in a coma. I’m not in a good mood and if you want to get out of here in one piece, I think you should cooperate.”

“You cannot undo what has been done,” the demon hissed.

Emma dragged a chair over, sitting down in front of the demon. “Wanna bet?” she said. “I have a powerful witch who can open mirror portals and a woman who is bonded with a demon working on finding the real Sandman right now. You really think I can’t put you back where you belong?”

The demon squirmed and jerked against the chains. “You have no power.”

Emma snorted in amusement. “I have you chained down and whimpering,” she said. “What part of ‘no power’ does that come under?”

It was silent.

Emma leaned back in her chair. “I’m willing to strike a deal,” she said. “You tell us who put you up to this, and we send you back to your world. No more pain. No more suffering. Just your own world.”

“She will not take failure lightly. She will have her revenge.”

“Ah. She. About my height, dark hair, midlife crisis and power trip rolled into one?” Emma leaned forwards. “Did she tell you how we kicked her ass? Did she tell you how we threw her into the mirror and locked her there? Did she tell you why she can’t come back herself?”

The demon’s black eyes flickered.

“Oh, she didn’t?” Emma put her head to one side. “The witch upstairs is her daughter. She gets her back-up power from me, and I don’t need to tell you how powerful that can make her.” She smiled. “So, I’m going to ask you again: where did you come from and how did she send you through?”

 

_________________________________________________

 

“I’m sorry we had to get you up during the night.”

Isabelle French smiled. “You know it’s not a problem, Augustus,” she said. “Are you sure it’s all right, leaving Emma down there alone with the demon?”

“She insisted,” Lance said, sitting down on a stool beside the work bench. He looked uncertainly at Gold. “Does she hurt demons like that often?”

“Only when she has to.”

“There are worse things,” Regina said quietly. She was going through the books that she had salvaged from her mother’s workshop before her father cleared it out. She glanced at Gold. “I wish I could have come over sooner, but dad and I were out of town.”

“You didn’t know,” Gold said. “And at least that meant you were safe from being targeted.”

They fell silent as a shriek echoed up from the basement.

“You think it’ll tell?” Lance asked.

Gold shook his head. “For Emma’s sake, I hope it does,” he said. “If we can put it back where it belongs, then we can hopefully retrieve the Sandman that belongs in this world and set Hatley and Miss Brier to rights.”

“Here.” Isabelle turned a book around. “A beacon across dimensions. If we open a portal through the mirror, then this would be the thing to guide the Sandman home.”

“How do we know my mom won’t follow it?” Regina asked nervously.

“Because you’ll be holding the door,” Gold said. “Emma will be with you, and together, you’ll have enough strength to keep her from coming back.” 

Regina looked doubtful. “She’s strong.”

“She’s also grown complacent in her magical practise,” Gold said. “She was depending too much on the life of others for strength. Stolen life is nothing compared to the power of energy freely given.”

They turned at footsteps on the staircase. 

Emma came up, wiping her hands on a cloth. “We need a full length mirror,” she said, then looked at Regina, “and I think you know what marks we need on it.”

Regina nodded, swallowing hard. “You’ll help me?”

“If it gets rid of this thing and keeps Henry safe, you can take everything I’ve got.” She tossed down the rag. It looked like it was stained with oil. “From the sounds of it, it was a direct switch: the Sandman from here got too close to a mirror, and the thing we’ve got downstairs is its reflection. That’s why Cora couldn’t come back. She didn’t leave her reflection on this side.”

“You know none of this makes any kind of scientific sense, right?” Lance said. All eyes turned to him, amused. He held up his hands. “I’m just saying.”

“Magic seldom does,” said Gold. “Emma, there’s a mirror in the shop. You two can carry it down. Miss Mills and I will get the supplies ready. Isabelle…”

Isabelle smiled quietly. “You want me to be out of the way in case it doesn’t go to plan?” she guessed.

“So we have a second line of defence, just in case,” he agreed. “You know what this town is about. I need to know at least one other person out there is aware of it.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t die.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “We’ll try our best.”

While Miss French headed in one direction, Lance and Emma headed in the other, carrying the mirror, leaving Gold and Regina alone in the back of the shop.

“Do you really think we’re in danger?” she asked quietly.

He opened a small case, withdrawing the protection amulet she had used before. “We’re always in danger, dearie,” he said. “The best we can do is face it and laugh as if we don’t care.”

Regina took the amulet. “If it’s not working,” she said, “if bad things start coming through, knock me out. It’ll snap the connection and stop them getting all the way into this world.”

“It won’t be necessary,” he said.

“Still, will you do it?”

“If I have to,” Gold agreed. 

 

_____________________________________________________________

 

 

Jeff’s head felt fuzzy.

He opened his eyes, squinting. 

He could feel the weight of his amulet on his chest, the chain resting against his throat. He remembered putting it on, remembered seeing shapes in the shadows, and remembered fighting every part of the darkness that was telling him to lie down and sleep. He remembered making it as far as Mary Margaret’s house, but after that, everything got hazy.

“Jeff?”

Jeff tilted his head towards the familiar voice. “Nolan?”

“Yeah,” David Nolan said. “I’m here.”

His face came into focus, and there was another behind him. 

“All jocks?” Jeff said. His tongue felt like lead, his words slurred.

Lance snorted. “Not even a thank you,” he said. “I like that.” He smiled at Jeff. “How you doin’, little man?”

Jeff was about to reply when he saw the shape of something that was not a man behind Lance’s shoulder. He scrambled back up the bed, yelping when his wrists caught on the restraints, and he gestured desperately. 

“Get out of here!” he exclaimed to the two guys. “It’s here!”

“Jeff!” David grabbed his shoulders, holding him down. “Easy! Calm down!”

Jeff shook his head wildly. “I can see it,” he said helplessly. “It’ll hurt you.”

“This guy?” Lance jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s the good guy.”

Jeff subsided on the bed, staring at them warily. “You can see it?”

“The one that came after you was something different,” Lance said. “We got rid of it.”

Jeff looked blankly at the shimmering shapeless figure behind Lance. It raised a digitless hand in a wave that seemed almost shy. “Who’s this?”

“The Sandman,” Lance said. 

“Cora sent the other one out through from the mirror world,” David said. “This one is our world’s Sandman. He was trapped there.”

Jeff shook his head. “I don’t understand. How can you see him?”

“Because he let us,” Lance said. “We helped him, so he’s helping us put things right. Even if you take your amulet off, you’ll be able to see him.”

Jeff nodded slowly, watching as David loosened the restraints. He rubbed at his wrists once his hands were free. “Everyone’s okay? Emma too?”

David and Lance exchanged looks.

“Emma and Regina put a lot into getting him back,” Lance said. “They’re going to need some rest, but apart from that, everyone’s going to be fine. Even Mary Margaret’s neighbour.”

“Mary Margaret’s neighbour?”

“You put a protection on Mary Margaret’s place,” David said. “The thing thought the next building over was Mary Margaret’s.”

Jeff sat up. “I think we need to protect our houses better,” he said. He looked up at the shimmering shape of the Sandman. He was watching Jeff out of shimmering black eyes, but unlike the other one, he looked friendly and there was a hint of mirth and warmth. “Thank you.”

The Sandman performed an extravagant bow, then faded slowly out of sight.

 

___________________________________________

 

Gold was tired.

It had been a long couple of days.

The spell to open the mirror gateway again had left Emma exhausted, to the point that her friend, the football player, had to physically carry her up the stairs to her bedroom. Regina was in a similar state, and had been deposited in the guest room.

Both girls slept like the dead, and were still asleep when Henry was brought home the next morning by Mary Margaret. The girl reported that Lance and David had waited for Jeff to come to at the hospital, and he seemed coherent and almost back to normal.

Rose Brier had woken up too, much to the delight and relief of her parents and boyfriend. None of the doctors could explain her condition, according to the whispers in the hospital, or the fact she had woken up of her own accord. Narcolepsy was suspected, but for the most part, the young woman was given a clean bill of health.

Since his sister and Regina were both sleeping, Gold took Henry to the kitchen, got him some breakfast, and quietly explained the generalities of what had happened. The boy listened solemnly, and nodded.

“I knew my nightmares were getting worse,” he said. “I didn’t know why.”

“Now you do,” Gold said. “It should get better now.”

Henry nodded. “Do you think that’s why Emma and Regina are still sleeping?” he asked. “They did all that work and the Sandman knew how tired they were?”

“It could be the case,” Gold agreed. “But for now, I think you should get to school.”

With both girls sleeping and Henry seen to the school bus, Gold retreated to his own room, shedding the jacket of his suit and undoing his tie. His head was throbbing, and he could almost smell the tang of magic and sulphur in the air.

Gold lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes. 

He seldom dreamed vividly. Age had dimmed the clarity of the images. 

But now, he stood in an echo of his own shop, on the customer’s side of the counter. The Sandman was on the other side, his shimmering shape based on Gold’s own.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” Gold said.

“It is,” the Sandman replied with Gold’s own voice. “I have no voice in a world outside dreams.”

Gold walked towards the counter - no cane, he noticed - and gazed at the shifting surface of the Sandman’s face. “So you came to my dreams for a reason? You wanted to have a voice so you could talk to me?”

“I do.” Glittering hands came to rest on the counter. “The ones who saved me, I have granted peaceful rest to. The ones who were harmed, I have healed. But for you, I bring knowledge from the world beyond the glass.”

Gold leaned against the counter. “Is she planning to strike again?”

The Sandman shook his head. “It is nothing to do with her,” he said. “I bring you news of your son.”

Gold stared at him. “My son died.”

The shimmering eyes watched him. “No,” he said. “He didn’t.”

Gold jolted awake, gasping, one hand to his chest. His shirt was soaked in sweat. “Neal,” he whispered.


	16. Unleashed

The forest around the edge of Storybrooke was thick and wild, dense trees skirting the road and reaching up with gnarled bare branches towards the clear winter sky. The trunks glittered with frost, and the road shone by the light of the cloud-wreathed gibbous moon.

It was eerily quiet as a truck rumbled to a stop.

"This the place?" the passenger asked.

The driver nodded to the sign. "Welcome to Storybrooke."

The passenger laid slim hands on the dashboard. They were pale in the faint moonlight. "You can feel the power from here," she said. "You sure this is a good idea?"

The driver laughed without humour. "Where the dark is, that's where we'll be. If there's blood to be spilled, we're the ones to do it."

"We could wait," the passenger said. She was younger than the driver, a fierce light in her dark eyes. "Let the moon pass and go in at full strength."

The driver drummed gloved fingers on the steering wheel. "The longer we wait, the more chance that someone else will take the advantage from us." The engine rumbled to life again. "The portents are clear. I'm not about to let someone else get the advantage when the dam breaks."

The passenger pulled one foot up onto the seat. "Let's go, then."

 

__________________________________________________

 

 

"Staff, up, right."

Emma swung the staff, striking the top right of the frame with a thump.

"Left foot, centre."

She used the staff to swing around and brought her foot up in a hard kick.

She and Gold were in the training room beneath the shop, and for all that he was training her, he seemed a million miles away. She recognised the pattern of moves he was picking out, and it was as basic as it got. Still, she followed through, beating the hell out of the training frame on command.

It was nothing like the real thing, but it was a work out.

After the mess with the Sandman, she’d been exhausted. 

It had taken a hell of a lot of her energy to let Regina open the gateway to let the Sandman back through. They’d both slept for nearly a day afterwards, and even now, days on, she didn’t feel like she was back to full strength.

That was the reason for an even more intensive workout than usual.

Gold held out a handtowel to her after she set aside the quarterstaff, and she swiped her forehead. "Good work," he said, setting aside the board he was holding. He always stood and took notes, but lately, she'd noticed that his pen hardly seemed to move, and she knew it wasn't down to the fact she was improving.

She grabbed the bottle of water from the work table, downing half of it as she caught her breath. She watched Gold gathering up the weapons, setting them into the rack that Jeff had made for her. 

"You okay?" she asked finally.

Gold looked at her in surprise, and she was embarrassed to realise just how rarely she'd asked. "Why wouldn't I be?" he said, propping the quarterstaff in the curved circle at the end of the weapons rack.

Emma swung up to sit on the workbench, examining the water bottle. He hadn't answered the question, and that made her gut twist up. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the truth either, and that meant something wasn't right. "You've been kinda quiet," she said carefully. "Ever since Jeff was cursed."

Gold straightened one of the swords. "I prefer not to see people being used as collateral," he said. He turned back to her and inclined his head. "Mr Hatley should not have been put in that situation."

Emma ducked her head, flushing. "I told him it was dangerous to hang around a Slayer," she said.

"What?" Gold said in surprise. "NO, this is nothing to do with you being a Slayer. It's all because he continues to dabble in magics that could damage him."

Emma looked up at him. "Yeah," she said, "but if he didn't know I was a Slayer, he wouldn't want to be fighting on my side."

Gold snorted. "This is Jeff Hatley we're talking about," he said. "You do remember he was going after the undead before he even met you?"

Emma couldn't help a rueful smile. "I guess," she said. She slid off the workbench and smoothed her wifebeater down. "Maybe you should teach him magic stuff? I mean, if it'll stop him from running off and doing it himself, and getting into trouble?"

Her watcher frowned. "It may be worth considering," he said.

They both paused at the jingle of the shop bell.

"I'm home!"

Henry had been to play at Nicky Tillman's again, and they hadn't expected him back quite so soon.

Emma looked down at herself, her shirt damp with exertion. "So I was helping you move boxes, if he asks," she said.

"If that's what you want him to believe," Gold replied, and Emma knew that he wanted her to come clean to Henry. It would be easier, if she could, but too many people knew the secret already, and if he knew, he could be put in more danger. 

"I do," she said, then ran up the stairs from the basement. Henry had set his backpack down on the floor. "Hey, kid. You're back early."

Henry nodded. "Nicky forgot to ask his mom if it was okay for me to stay for dinner," he said. "I didn't want to get him into trouble."

Emma ruffled his hair. "Good of you," she said.

He looked her up and down. "You're a mess."

She feigned indignation, trying to hide the simple relief at him teasing her. It happened so rarely, seeing him with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Hey!"

He ducked her ruffling hand with a grin. "You are! All sweaty!"

"I concur," Gold said from behind her.

Emma swung around to throw a half-hearted glare at him. "You're the one who made me move all the boxes," she said.

She saw the resignation in his expression, and he inclined his head. "Sometimes, heavy-lifting is useful," he said. "Maybe you could shower, while Henry and I prepare dinner."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "Don't want to make the apartment stink."

Henry laughed, hoisting his backpack back up. "Too late," he said.

Emma stuck her tongue out at him, then sniffed cautiously at herself. "Y'know," she said, "you're not wrong." She glanced at Gold. "You sure you don't want me to help in the kitchen."

Gold approached Henry, laying his hand on her brother's shoulder. Henry didn't flinch. That was what really caught her attention. Even now, Henry still recoiled from teachers, even from David and Lance, but Gold didn't scare him at all. 

"I think we can manage," Gold said. "What do you think, Henry?"

Henry looked up at Gold with a shy, conspiratorial smile. "Yeah," he said.

Emma swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "It better be something good," she said, then turned and fled up the stairs, before she could go all girly and emotional. She managed to get the door locked behind her and leaned against it for a moment, catching her breath.

Henry didn't let people touch him, at least not without squirming away or tensing up.

If he trusted Gold, if he felt safe with Gold, he was starting to feel like he was safe in this house, and if anything happened, if anything went wrong, if...

She looked up at herself in the mirror.

She was soaked in sweat, still flushed, and she could see the muscles twitching in her bare arms. She was a Slayer, and her job was to kill and to die. That was the fate of all Slayers. One day, she would punch to late or kick to slow, and she would die.

Emma lifted her hands and swiped at her cheeks. 

If she fell, at least he would have someone he trusted who would take care of him.

 

____________________________________________________

 

There was a dark puddle by the side of the road, smeared, trailing into an alley.

“Pull over!” David exclaimed, scrambling out before the car even stopped. In the heat of the day, it was already drying out, but he crouched down, touching the surface of the pool.

“Do you have to do that?” Lance demanded with a grimace, leaning over the passenger seat. “C’mon, man! We’re going to be late for the game!”

David looked up at him, his face pale in the fading sunlight. “It’s blood,” he said. “Human.”

Lance’s expression tensed. “You sure?”

David nodded. “Trust me,” he said. “You get to recognise it.” He looked towards the alley, and Lance knew the guy well enough to recognise that stubborn ass look on his face.

“No!” he exclaimed, scrambling across the passenger seat and out to grab David by the shoulders before he could go charging in all Last Stand. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you go chasing after every blood spatter in town.”

David swung around, glaring at him. “So you think we just sit by when someone is in trouble?”

Lance snorted. “I think we mount up,” he retorted. “I have Artie’s baseball bat in the trunk and I’m pretty sure there’s a tyre iron in there as well. If you keep trying to be the dumb hero who runs into dark alleys at night, I guess I’ll just have to be the wisecracking sidekick who saves you.”

“You don’t have to…” David started. 

“You don’t either,” Lance pointed out. 

“Coach…”

“Coach can do whatever he likes,” Lance said, dragging David back towards the car. He popped the trunk and pulled out the bat and with some rooting around under his football gear, found the tyre iron. “Good enough?”

David reached behind his back and withdrew a long, narrow knife from the some hidden sheath on his back. “Better.”

Lance stared at him. “You have that on you all the time?”

“At least one,” David replied. “Come on. We need to hurry.”

Lance locked the car and followed David into the alley. 

The sun was setting fast, and they were going to miss the game, but Lance figured that being part of a superhero demon fighter’s team was more important than kicking a skin around and knocking other players on their asses.

There was something strange about watching David move when he was on the hunt. Lance had seen him hanging out with the other players often enough to get used to him walking tall and strong. He always walked like he owned the place, without any fear or hesitation. Now, it was another Nolan entirely who was fading into the alley like a shadow. He barely made a sound, moving as light as a cat.

Lance felt like a clutz. Everything his foot touched rattled and clattered. Every bit of light there was, he seemed to end up in it. He was starting to wonder if there was some secret demon-fighting ninja school that people trained in, when Nolan stopped short, holding up his hand. Lance had seen enough war movies to recognise that he was meant to stop too.

“What is it?” he whispered.

Nolan nodded a little further down the alley.

The dried blood had been a warning. They hadn’t made it in time.

The body was lying on its side in the alley. Lance felt his stomach clench, and he turned away to stop himself from being sick. No one could survive with that much blood spilled. It was pooling around the old guy, soaked into his clothes, his hair, all over his face.

“What did…” he started to ask.

David hissed, hushing him, and he turned back reluctantly to see what his friend was seeing.

Something was moving in the shadows by the body.

Something on four legs.

“Dog?” he breathed close to David’s ear.

David shook his head, shifting his weight slowly. “Back up,” he whispered. “Quietly.”

The tone in David’s voice was enough to make his heart thunder and his legs tremble, which was damned embarrassing for a guy who tried to be cool and collected as much as possible. He walked back a step and collided with a dumpster, which knocked over a stack of boxes with a clatter.

David swore savagely with words that made Lance’s ears burn and he knew his Mom would still paddle his ass if he admitted to knowing them.

“Run!” David yelled.

Lance was one of the running backs for a reason. He could move and fast when he had to and the fear in David’s voice had him sprinting before he could even stop to think why.

David kept up with him, but he heard the growling behind them.

“Get high!” David snapped. “A fire escape!”

“Gotcha!” Lance acknowledged, panting, as they sped down an alley. David was knocking over trash cans and shoving trash behind them as they fled, trying to stop whatever was coming after them.

A fire escape gleamed in the street lamp ahead, and Lance scrambled up onto a dumpster and jumped up to haul the ladder down. David scrambled up close behind him, the metal rattling and creaking ominously under their weight.

“Haul it up!” David gasped out, sagging on the gridding.

Lance tugged the ladder back up, just as something big and hairy leapt, snapping at the lower rungs. He jerked the ladder just out of reach, falling against the wall, out of breath. The thing - a four-legged demon? A crazy dog? An overexcited bear? He didn’t know - clawed at the dumpster’s lid, dragging shimmering furrows in the metal, and it bared gleaming fangs.

“What the hell is that?” he panted.

It leapt, almost but not quite reaching the fire escape.

Speaking suddenly didn’t seem quite as important as getting higher.

Three levels up, they finally stopped, and Lance’s legs were shaking so much he was pretty sure he couldn’t run any further. 

David was leaning against the wall, sucking in gulping breaths. “We need the Slayer,” he said raggedly. “This is out of our league.”

“Why?” Lance asked again. “What is it?”

David looked at him. “I think,” he said slowly, “that we got a werewolf.”

 

________________________________________________

 

"A werewolf? Are you sure?"

Nolan shook his head. "I couldn't be one hundred percent," he said. “But it’s a full moon and it looked wolf-ish.”

"Yeah," Knight added. "Running for your life does make it a little difficult to put together an e-fit."

They were both filthy, their hands grazed and bruised. From the looks of it, their clothes had been caught on barbed wire as well. Mr Gold motioned for them to go through to the shop. He shut the door behind them, and called up the stairs that it was Miss French come to pay a visit.

"Night off?" Nolan asked.

Mr Gold nodded. As much as he'd been distracted by the whirlwind of his own thoughts and the hours and days he had spent researching access to other dimensions, he also had noticed how wearied his Slayer had been in the wake of the Sandman affair. 

"She's spending the evening with Henry," he said. "I'd rather it remained that way."

"Even if there's a werewolf on the loose?" Nolan said incredulously.

Gold looked at him, wondering that the boy was even still alive. "She's still rebuilding her strength," he said. "I don't think she would be ready to face a wolf tonight, especially not on the first night of the moon." He led them through the shop and down into the training area, fetching them the first aid box for their scratched hands. "We'll also need to arrange weapons. After all, a wolf is only a wolf by moonlight, and we have two more nights to catch it."

"Two more?" Knight asked. "Isn't it the full moon?"

"There are three nights when the moon can be considered full," Gold replied. "Tonight is only the first."

"You have silver bullets, though?" Nolan said.

Gold opened up one of the cabinets of books. "Only to kill," he said. "As I said, a wolf is only a wolf on the moon, and I'd rather not see an innocent killed because of something they can't control."

He withdrew a book from the shelves, carrying it over to the workbench and opening it. It was one of the watcher diaries and contained several photographs of a werewolf that had briefly been held by the council. The pictures were yellowing and curling with age, but they were clear and the best available references to a werewolf that were available.

Nolan and Knight approached the bench, looking down at the book.

"Does that look like the thing you saw?" Gold asked. 

Nolan nodded. "It was bigger," he said. He hesitated, then added, "Something like that would have torn a man to pieces, wouldn't it?"

"Most likely," Gold agreed. "They can be incredibly violent."

Nolan frowned. "Strange."

Gold glanced up at him. "Explain."

"I saw blood on the sidewalk," Nolan said. "Someone had been dragged into the alley, but the blood was already dry."

"Before moonrise?"

"Before sunset," Nolan replied, nodding. "And the victim wasn't torn up. He'd been cut badly enough to bleed out, but I don't think there was any sign of biting."

"You noticed that?" Knight said.

"You learn what to look for," Nolan said quietly. "I could be mistaken, but I think it found him."

Gold looked down at the image of the wolf. "Probably the smell of blood," he said. "I doubt that any wolf on the first night of the full moon would be able to resist the scent."

Lance picked up the book, looking at the photographs. "Resisting?" he said. "So on the full moon, they turn into animals? They don't remember anything about being human?"

"Not that we're aware of," Gold said. "Very little is known about werewolves, apart from the lunar pattern and the reaction to silver. Those who are identified are often killed before they can be researched." He returned to the cabinet, searching through the boxes there. "There are those who value the pelt and claws of the werewolf. A rare breed, so to speak."

Knight looked at him, sickened. "So people hunt them, knowing they're people every other night of the month?"

"The world isn't a kind place," Gold said. "There are people who will kill anyone and anything for the right price."

"I know," Knight said, "but I..." He shook his head, closing the book. "I guess it just comes as a shock to hear it, when you don't see it all the time." He set the book back down on the bench. "So this'll be a capture?"

Gold nodded, carrying a case over to the workbench. "This person might not even be aware of what they are," he said, setting the case down, flipping the lid open to reveal a tranquiliser gun and darts. "If we can subdue it long enough to get it here." He motioned to the cage on the far side of the room. "That would be somewhere safe for it to wake, without being harmed."

"What if we can't tranq it?" Nolan asked.

"Miss Swan has ninety-seven percent accuracy with firearms," Gold replied. "That won't be a problem."

Nolan looked at him. "But let's say she doesn't get the opening. Kill or be killed?"

Gold gazed at him. "And if you killed it and it transpired to be Miss Blanchard, unknowingly afflicted?" Nolan flinched as if Gold has struck him. "Don't be so willing to strike out, Mr Nolan. You may end up hurting someone that you never intended to."

"So we trap it," Lance said quietly. "No muss, no fuss."

"And we find what killed the man in the alley," Gold said. "Did you call the police?"

Lance nodded. "We saw the squad car lights when we got down off the roof," he said. "He'll be on his way to the morgue by now."

Gold nodded. "Then we have from now until moonrise tomorrow to find out what killed him and try to find out who the wolf may be."

Lance glanced down at the tranquiliser gun, then back up. "No pressure, then?"

 

___________________________________________________

 

“Can’t he just call his usual guy?”

Mary Margaret looked over from the crystal ball she was examining. “You’re complaining about helping?” she said. “You know he’s getting together an arsenal to go after a werewolf. I thought you’d be excited.”

Jeff made a face at her. “He’s asking me to hack hospital records,” he said. “They’re not exactly complicated, but I don’t have a name, a date of birth or anything, and I’m pretty sure the old guy isn’t the only old guy they have in the morgue.”

Mary Margaret snorted. “You’re telling me you can’t do it?”

Jeff’s eyes widened in horror. “I never said that!” he exclaimed hotly. He turned his attention to the computer, and whatever he was doing, it was nothing Mary Margaret had ever seen in her IT class.

She approached the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, watching him.

It was only when he stopped to riffle through a pile of papers that she murmured, “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a dream catcher on your window.”

He went still, and she saw the way his hands tensed around the pile of papers. “So?”

“It wasn’t there last time I was here,” she said. “Nightmares?”

He prodded at his keyboard again. “The Sandman keeps them away, Gold said,” he said without looking at her. “I haven’t had any.”

Mary Margaret looked up at the woven circle. “Better to be on the safe side, huh?”

“Always,” he said quietly.

“Jeff,” she said hesitantly. “What you did…”

“S’nothing,” he said, staring fixedly at the screen.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Mary Margaret said. “You saved me from that thing.”

Jeff shrugged. “Just made it look somewhere else,” he said.

Mary Margaret looked over at him. His shoulders were hunched, and she sighed, rising. She approached him and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Jeff, you didn’t know it would go after someone else,” she said. “How could you know? You were out of your mind.”

“That girl shouldn’t have been hurt,” he said, his voice unsteady.

Mary Margaret leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “She’s fine,” she said. “I’ve seen her. She’s fine and happy and as far as she knows, it was a really bad attack of narcolepsy.”

Jeff nodded stiffly, staring straight ahead at his computer screen. “Doesn’t change that I did it.”

“Jeff!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, swatting his hard on the chest. “That demon did it! You didn’t attack her! You were the victim here!”

“I guess,” he said, looking down at the keyboard.

“No guessing,” she said, propping her chin on top of his head. “You did everything you could to save us. That’s what you did. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

She could feel the tension leaving his body a little and he nodded again, with a little more certainty. “Gold wasn’t happy that I’d been using that magic again,” he muttered sheepishly. “I don’t think he trusts me with it.”

“Well, it was pretty powerful,” she admitted, squeezing his shoulders.

He laughed weakly. “I don’t even remember. Everything about that night’s kinda… fuzzy.”

“Probably a good thing,” she said. “You impressed everyone, holding it together so well.”

He snorted, moving his mouse. “Right.”

She propped her chin on top of his head again. “You did,” she said. “You always do.” She glanced down at him, then pressed, “You feel up to doing Gold’s new job? Or you want me to go and tell him you’re needing a break?”

She could see his indignant expression reflected in his monitor. “I’m not sick.”

“Well, you just said…”

He tilted his head back to look up at her. “I see what you’re doing,” he said. “Distracting me isn’t going to work.”

Mary Margaret grinned at him. “Really?” she said. “You want to prove me wrong?”

He put out his tongue, then turned back to the screen, typing furiously.

Mary Margaret returned to sit on the bed, leafing through his books, and wasn’t surprised when he exclaimed triumphantly less than twenty minutes later. She closed the book she was holding and looked over. “Success?”

“I’m in the right department,” he said. “We have three men over fifty.” He flicked through the information that was available. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?”

He beckoned with a finger crooked over his shoulder. “See if you recognise the cause of death.”

Mary Margaret approached and peered at the form on the screen. “He was stabbed in the heart?” she said, frowning. “So it wasn’t supernatural?”

Jeff hesitated. “I think it was,” he said. “Think about your jock and those scars on his chest.”

Mary Margaret looked down at him. “You think it’s another of the demons?”

“We don’t have much violent crime in Storybrooke,” he said. “And we know the Mayor’s got those things all over town.” He looked at the screen. “Look. It says the wound wasn’t made by a blade or a piece of metal. It was something organic.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “So we have a werewolf and another Lover on the loose?” she said. “Well, at least we can’t say we’re having a quiet life.”

 

__________________________________________

 

The coffee shop was pretty quiet. 

Lance had visited the library and got a book on mythology from Miss French. He didn’t want to get in the way at Gold’s shop, once he got out of class, so doing his own research seemed like the best idea. Miss French had smiled at him in a strange way, and said it was good of him to help out Gold and Emma.

He sprawled out on one of the sofas, flicking through the pages, and was surprised to see that it wasn’t a standard oogy boogy kind of book. The pages were thin and old and it almost felt like it had been written by people who had seen things, rather than conjecture. 

People came and went, but most of the tables were deserted, which was why it was a surprise when someone’s shadow fell over him.

“Can I sit here?”

Lance swung around to sit upright, startled. “Uh. Hi.”

A young woman was standing over him, an iced mocha in one hand, a laptop under her other arm. She was pretty, smiling, her lips very red and her teeth very white. “The barista said the internet signal is best here,” she said, by way of explanation. “I’m needing to use the wifi.”

Lance nodded, scooting his stuff out of the way. “Sure,” he said with a welcoming grin. “I’m never going to complain if a beautiful lady wants to share a couch with me.”

She looked at him in amusement, her cheeks flushing. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Only the pretty ones who want to sit beside me,” he said solemnly.

She studied him as she took a sip from her drink. “You’re not shy, are you?”

Lance chuckled. “What gave me away?” He nodded to her laptop. “But if you gotta work, I’ve got reading to do.”

She studied him for a long moment, her dark eyes intent on his face, and she set down the laptop. “I guess I should finish my drink before I start,” she said, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “So, Shy Guy, do you have a name?”

He offered a hand. “Lance,” he said.

She smiled that brilliantly white smile again. “Ruby,” she said, clasping his hand briefly. 

He put down his book. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around,” he said. “New in town?”

“You know everyone in town?” she said, looking surprised.

He shook his head with a laugh. “No, but I think I would have remembered you,” he said.

Her rosy cheeks darkened a little, one side of her mouth tilting up. “Do you do that on purpose or do you have a blush-quota you have to reach before you can leave?”

He shrugged, spreading his hands. “I like to think I’m an honest guy,” he said.

Ruby pushed a hand through her hair. It was long and black, but he saw a glimpse of bright red braided through it. She looked like she was a creative person, with a dozen bracelets around her wrists, necklaces layered over one another, and sleek black pants under a long shirt, cinched in tight with a man’s belt. 

“So you’re from around here?” she said, watching him with as much interest as he was showing her.

“All my life,” he said, then winced. “But don’t let that put you off.”

She played with the straw, stirring her drink. “Storybrooke can’t be that bad,” she said, half-laughing. “Seems like an okay place.”

Lance thought of the werewolf running loose, the demons that were around, Vampire Slayers and witches and magic and dark power. “It has its moments,” he said. “What about you? What brings you to our sleepy little town?”

She made a face. “Family business,” she said. 

“Staying long?” he asked.

She shrugged, her jewellery jingling. “It all depends how the family stuff turns out,” she said, drawing her legs up to fold them under her on the couch. “We need to catch up with some people, and it could take a while to get everything sorted out.”

Lance took a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. It was one thing to flirt, but he’d never seen someone with a smile quite so bright before, and she had a gleam in her eye that made him think she’d be an interesting person to talk to.

“Well,” he said, after taking his time to finish his mouthful, “if you need a guided tour of a restaurant while you’re here, I know a nice place.”

From the way her face lit up, he was almost convinced he was being played. No one could be that keen to go on a date with him. Sure, he was a footballer and smart, and okay to look at, but he wasn’t meant to be treated like Christmas. 

The girl - no, definitely not girl. She was out of High School for sure. The woman slid a little closer, setting her cup aside. “You’re really, really not shy, are you?”

Up close, he could see tiny flecks of amber in her eyes, and he almost jumped off the couch in surprise when she laid her hand on his thigh.

“Uh, no,” he said, blinking at her. “Not shy.” He glanced down at her hand, then back at her face. “Nor is your hand.”

She smiled that shining smile again. “I’m not going to be around long,” she said. “Got to make the most of the time I have here.” She leaned closer to him, and God, if he was a worse person, he would have let her keep going.

Instead, he scrambled up, hastily straightening his shirt. “Uh. I think we got our wires crossed,” he said awkwardly. 

She sat back on the couch, looking up at him, the smile gone now. There was something else there, something speculative, older. “I must have misinterpreted,” she said. “I thought you might be interested in something brief.”

He hooked his thumbs through the loops at his belt. “Not my style,” he said. He managed a smile. “Not that I wouldn’t, if you were looking for something at a slower pacer, but…” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “My mom brought me up to be a gentleman who courts a lady.”

The smile that crossed her face was something softer, and even more attractive than the dazzling one. “Well,” she said, “if I have a little time after the family stuff is out of the way, I’d still be interested in a tour of a restaurant.” She held up both hands, her eyes dancing. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He gazed at her, then smiled. “Tomorrow night?”

She winced. “I’m booked then,” she said, “but how about Friday?”

“I can do that,” he agreed, grinning. “Meet me at the library, under the clock tower at seven?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said. She picked up his book, giving the cover a curious glance, before holding it out to him. “You want to stick around, or do you need to run off and chase the boogeyman?” 

He took the book from her, his fingers brushing hers more than a little deliberately. “It’s vampires tonight,” he said solemnly. “I need to go and stock up on garlic and crosses.”

“Try not to get bitten,” she said just as seriously. “I’d hate to have to buy myself dinner.”

He feigned shock. “Who said I was paying?” he said.

Her lighter, warm smile lit her face. “A gentleman who courts a lady?” she suggested, her eyes dancing.

Lance held up a finger, frowning, then groaned. “Dammit. I knew that would come back and bite me on the ass.”

She laughed, flipping open her laptop. “As long as it’s the only thing that does,” she said, with a mischievous grin. “See you Friday, Shy Guy.”

He swept into an elaborate bow, which earned another laugh. “My lady.”

By the time he reached the door, she was bent over her laptop working. It was just as well, because he was so busy grinning like an idiot that he walked straight into the doorframe and almost gave himself a bloodied nose.

“Smooth, man,” he snorted, as he headed out into the afternoon. “Real smooth.”

 

____________________________________________

 

The moon was rising.

Emma was armed with a tranquiliser pistol as well as her usual array of weapons, in case they ran into the werewolf, but she - and Gold - were just as concerned about the latest Lover to show up in Storybrooke.

“I don’t see why I have to be with you,” David said, as they made their way down the main street. “Wouldn’t we cover more ground if we went separately?”

Emma glanced at him. “And take the chance that you’ll add another scar to your chest when you play the hero?” she said. She shook her head. “Don’t even try and fool yourself that you’re my backup. I’m yours and you know it.”

David scowled mutinously. “I’ve faced these things before and lived,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, “but what if you’re the one to find the werewolf and I’m the one to find the Lover?” She shook her head. “It’s better this way. And if we find the wolf and tranq it, we can both carry it back.”

“He thinks I’m going to get myself killed, doesn’t he?”

Emma glanced at him. “He thinks you should be dead already,” she said frankly. “It’s Mary Margaret who thinks you’re going to get yourself killed going after them.” She caught his arm, pulling him around to face her. “You heard Gold. The wolf is the priority for the next two nights. It’s an innocent person who might not even know what they’re doing. Demons can be killed any time. Werewolves can only be tracked on these three nights.”

David nodded reluctantly. “Where do we start?” he said.

“Gold said to check the parks,” she said. “They’d probably head for the forest if it was closer, but right now, park is the easiest bit of open space for it to get to.” She glanced at her watch. “Sun’s been down fifteen minutes, so it’ll be changed and running free.”

“It was in an alley last night,” David said. “Maybe Gold’s wrong.”

“Maybe he is,” Emma said, “but he’s my Watcher. He did the research. He points me in the right direction and…” She froze, holding out her hand, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes flicked around the street, and she didn’t even seem to breathe. “We’re being followed,” she murmured. “Something’s nearby.”

“Lovers don’t follow people,” he said quietly. “They get close, one-on-one, and get their food that way.”

“So we have probably a puppy stalking us,” Emma said in a grim whisper. “I say we head to the nearest cemetery. No one’ll be there at this time of day.”

They set out, though David kept glancing around.

“Don’t,” Emma said quietly. “Pretend you don’t know it’s there.”

“I can’t help it,” he said in an undertone. “I don’t want to die.”

Emma’s lips twitched. “That makes two of us,” she said dryly. “But it’s not coming closer. If it wanted to attack, it would have already. It’s just following us just now.”

“That’s not as comforting as you might think.”

Emma snorted. “It wasn’t meant to be,” she said. She slid her hand through his arm, gripping it tightly, when he tried to pull away. “We have to look natural,” she reminded him. “Why else would two teenagers go to a cemetery together?”

David made a face. “Weird teenagers.”

“Because what we do is so normal,” she said. She patted his arm. “Is that a wrist dagger?”

“Maybe,” he said guardedly.

“Good choice.” She led him onwards into one of the bigger cemeteries. It had a few crypts, and she pulled him into the shadow of one, putting her finger to her lips, and listened. He could hear the rustle of something moving through the grass.

“What now?” he whispered.

“Now,” she murmured, “we need to get it to come closer.”

He looked at her, frowning. “How?”

“Gold says they’re drawn to certain scents.”

“Like what?”

Emma clocked him in the nose. David yelled, the back of his knees hitting the edge of a tombstone, and he pitched over, landing on his back on the grass. He started to push himself up and froze.

The werewolf didn’t need to be lured closer.

It was less than five paces away.

“Emma!” he yelled.

The werewolf leapt, fangs bared, only to be hit by the Slayer, who lunged out of her hiding place and tackled it out of the air. Girl and wolf tumbled end over end, rolling across the ground, and Emma scrambled to her feet, pulling out the tranquiliser gun. The wolf was too fast, lunging again, and Emma had to backflip over one of the graves to dodge it.

It swung around, charging towards David again, and he used a gravestone as leverage to scramble up onto the nearest crypt. He felt fangs catch onto his foot, scraping at his sneaker as he jerked himself free.

“Clear!” he yelled.

He saw Emma raise the gun, the metal gleaming in the moonlight.

Something hissed through the air , hitting the gun, and it flew out of Emma’s hand, vanishing into the long grass. The werewolf didn’t even seem to notice her rushing for the gun, as it leapt up towards the edge of the crypt. Long claws scraped furrows in the ancient stone and David kicked out with his foot, trying to avoid the teeth but push it back.

It was bigger than he’d realised, and its eyes fixed on him, as it dragged itself upright, snarling.

“Hey!” Emma yelled. 

The wolf growled as something hit it from behind.

Emma didn’t have the tranquiliser gun, but she had other weapons, and the blunt ends of throwing knives were hitting the wolf with pinpoint precision. David took the moment of distraction to swing himself over the edge of the far side of the crypt, dropping down onto the ground and rolling, scrambling around the side of the crypt as fast as he could.

“You okay?” Emma called, groping through the grass.

“Could be worse!” he called back. He heard the thump of the wolf landing too, and pressed back against the wall of the crypt, edging around. 

“Go eastside!” Emma yelled. “It’s after you!”

He darted back the other direction, circling around the crypt, and he could see her. She jerked her hand, motioning him to get over to her, when something cannonball into him from behind, and he hit the ground with enough force that he heard something in his chest crack.

A long, slow, wet growl sounded close to his ear, his face crushed to the ground by the heavy muzzle, clawed paws pressing hard against his back. The weight of it was too much. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

Emma’s hand closed on metal in the grass, and she lifted the gun, pointing it straight at the wolf’s head.

Something cold and sharp pressed against the base of her skull. “Harm one hair on her head,” a woman’s voice said, low, calm, dangerous. “And I promise you’ll regret it.”


	17. Crying Wolf

"Harm one hair on her head, and I promise you'll regret it."

The voice came from behind Emma, and the owner was pressing something sharp and cold against the base of her skull. Emma's hand instinctively tightened around the grip of the gun. "You can get that thing to behave?" she said.

"'That thing' does what she wants," the woman behind her said. "She's saving your life, girl."

Emma stared at the wolf who was watching her face. The golden eyes were not even looking at the gun. They were fixed on Emma's eyes. It hadn't leapt from David’s body. It was just watching. She. The woman said she. She was just watching.

"Saving me?" Emma said. "From what?"

"That boy," the woman said. "He isn't what he seems."

David was unresisting beneath the wolf, though she could see him move his hand slowly to slide out his wrist dagger. Gold said only silver could really harm a wolf, and stabbing one would only make it mad. With her free hand, she motioned for him to stay down and still. 

"He's harmless," she said.

The woman snorted. "Can see why the town's gone to hell," she said. "When a Slayer doesn't recognise a demon, we're in a world of trouble." 

Slayer?

Emma opened her hand and released the gun, letting it fall to the grass. The sharp metal point at the nape of her neck was lowered, and Emma turned. "You know who I am?" she asked, staring at her assailant.

The woman wasn't what Emma had expected: short, plump, silver-haired. She looked like she was pushing sixty, but she held a revolver in one hand, which was pointed at David's head, and in her other arm, she was cradling a crossbow like a baby. "I recognise the style, girl," she said. "We've been hunting in town. This... boy of yours fled the site of a demon killing."

"That doesn't make him a demon," Emma said.

The woman looked at her, her expression steely. "Ruby says he stinks of it. You run along. We'll deal with it."

Emma shook her head. "He's a hunter," she said. "Like you." She glanced at David. "Let him up and open his shirt.”

"What?" David said indignantly.

The old woman looked at her. “What’s that going to prove?”

Emma met her eyes. “Just let him up,” she said. “You’ll see.” The woman gazed at her, then nodded to the wolf, which stepped delicately off David’s body, but remained close enough to attack again, her white teeth bared. David scrambled up onto his knees.

“Emma, I don’t…” he began warily.

"David, just do it."

He reluctantly opened his shirt, baring his chest and the scars that covered it. Emma turned her attention back to the old hunter, who looked sickened. She lowered the gun, nodding. "He's no Lover," she said, holstering the gun on her hip. "Back down, Ruby. We got the wrong person."

The wolf padded closer to her, uttering a low growl. She settled on her haunches beside the hunter, her gold eyes examining Emma again.

Emma eyed the wolf warily as she approached David and helped him to his feet. "I thought werewolves were meant to be wild," she said.

"Shows what the council knows," the woman snorted. "She's as smart as she is in human form, though that's not saying much." The wolf snorted and jerked the end of the old woman's coat with her teeth. The women chuckled. "You know I'm teasing, pup." She shouldered her crossbow, hung on a broad leather strap against her back. Bright blue eyes fixed on Emma again. "You got a watcher hereabouts, girl? I think it's time we pooled our resources."

Emma retrieved her tranquiliser gun from the grass. "I don't think he'd be happy about working with outside contractors," she said.

The woman smiled strangely. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "I think he might like to know just who has come to his precious little town."

 

 

____________________________________________________

 

 

The books were spread all over the workbench in the basement. Some of them were so matted with markers and scraps of paper that they were nearly twice as thick as they had been. 

Gold made another note in his notebook, then set down his pen and rubbed his eyes. 

His private research was restricted to the hours when the Slayer was on patrol and her brother as sleeping, and occasionally when they were being educated. It meant he had very little time for sleep himself, and more and more, he felt that he was living on caffeine.

The Sandman had spoken truly, he knew that much. In the world of mirrors, a thousand other worlds were reflected, and in one of those reflections, his son was alive. He didn't know if that meant he was well or ill, thriving or half-mad. What mattered was that he was alive, and if he was alive, he could be found.

Gold could remember the night that Neal vanished.

They had been fighting. 

After his mother's death, Neal had been kept safe, but that was the problem. He was safe. Not just from danger, but from everything. Gold could look back and see just how much his overprotectiveness had been smothering his son. No child wanted to be supervised every moment of every day. 

As time moved on and Neal grew from child to teenager, that teenager wanted to be able to spend time with friends and do the normal things children did when they didn't know about a world of demons and sorcery. He didn't want to be closed up in a house that was turning into little more than fortress, shuttered and fortified against the world.

So they fought.

Gold had ignored his son's every complaint and appeal. He had brushed aside his son's distress out of his own selfish need to keep the boy closed away, so he wouldn't be taken like his mother was. Neal had tried to talk to him, and he had closed his ears and ignored what his son was asking.

“All you care about is power!” Neal had exclaimed on that last fateful day. “Can’t you just stop? Just let someone else do it? The council would understand.”

Gold remembered shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I need more power to protect you.”

Neal stared at him long and hard. “But you’re not,” he said. “You’re protecting yourself. You’re not protecting me. You’re keeping me in a cage.”

Gold remembered what he said next more clearly than anything else, because looking back, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “But you’ll be safe,” he said, pointing at his son, and he remembered smiling, as if he had just won the argument.

His son stared at him in silence, as if he were a stranger, then turned and walked up the stairs to his room. It was the last time Gold saw him.

It was the loss of Millie. 

It had shattered what sense he had. 

It took the loss of Neal to drag him back to his senses. He was so close to closing himself away like a deranged hermit, warding himself away from the world. After all, he’d done so to protect all that he loved. When that was gone, he didn’t have any reason to wrap himself up in it anymore.

Gold looked at the scar on his palm, rubbing it with the ball of his thumb. Scars were meant to fade with time, but this one was as sharp and clear as it had ever been. A reminder of what he had done. And a reminder of how he had failed to defeat the creature that took his child.

He rose from the table and went upstairs to the kitchen to put on the kettle for a fresh pot of coffee. He watched the water pour into the kettle and it took him a moment to realise that he was overfilling it. He groped for the tap, turning it off. Christ, he was tired.

“Gold!” Emma’s voice was a forced whisper. 

Gold frowned, going to the kitchen doorway. Emma was standing halfway up the stairs that led to the shop, her head only just visible. She beckoned him urgently. Gold set down his cup and made his way to the stairs.

“You have the wolf?” he asked quietly, descending.

“Sort of,” Emma replied. “Someone here wanted to speak to you.”

His frown deepened, as he came to the bottom of the staircase. The back door was open, and there were two people there. One of them was Nolan, looking ruffled and wary. The other was a small, plump woman in boots and a knee-length coat. She had curly hair that was so pale it was turned yellow by the streetlamp.

“Can I help you?” he said.

The woman turned, and Gold stepped back, eyes widening. She smiled. “Gold,” she said.

Gold stared at her numbly. “Lucas.”

 

 

_____________________________________________

 

 

Something was going on and Emma didn’t know what it was.

Gold knew the woman with the werewolf. He didn’t look happy about it, but he knew her well enough to let her into the shop. He didn’t even ask why the werewolf was running around unchecked, but Emma noticed he never turned his back on either of them. She’d sent David home when they left the cemetery. He was all scratched up and bloody, and last thing they needed was him getting hurt again. 

The woman set down her crossbow on the pile of books on the workbench, picking one of the heavy tomes up and thumbing through it. “Dimensional pathways?” she said, flicking through the pages. “So you know you’ve got something nasty coming out here?”

Gold remained standing stiffly by the door. “We’ve had some trouble with mirror magic,” he said, his hands folded on the handle of his cane. Emma hated when he did that, all stiff and rigid and wary. It meant something or someone bad was coming.

“Hmm.” The woman slung her bag down at her feet, the wolf sitting down beside her and watching them both. “You sent your Slayer after my girl.”

“I sent my Slayer after a werewolf, for its own safety,” Gold said, his voice clipped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it was only a tranquiliser gun.”

The woman pulled the stool out at the bench. “You might want to tell your girl who I am, Gold,” she said. “She looks like she’s ready to throw a punch.” She folded her arms over her chest and met Emma’s eyes. “We’re not enemies, leastways not unless your old man says so.”

Gold didn’t even look at Emma. He was watching the woman guardedly. “Perhaps not enemies,” he said, “but how can I be sure that you could be considered as friends?”

The woman reached down one hand and scratched the werewolf behind the ear. “You know there’s a Lover in town,” she said. “Ruby and I, we’ve been hunting. A lot of them seem to be coming this way, and here you are, with a Slayer.” She took out her gun and set it down beside her crossbow. “Way I see it, you’re going to need all the help you can get, even if the council would want you to turn me in.”

Emma folded her arms. “We can handle it.”

The look that the woman turned on her was part pity, part amusement, part grief. “She’s young, Gold,” she said quietly. “How much has she seen? Does she know how bad it gets?”

Emma bristled angrily. “I’ve seen enough,” she snapped. “Who do you think you are? Coming in here like you own the place? Telling us what we already know?”

“Miss Swan,” Gold murmured.

“What?” Emma demanded. “What’s such a big deal about her?” She gestured to the woman and the wolf. “What makes you listen to her? Is it because she’s got a tame werewolf? Or because she’s armed? What is it?”

Gold finally looked at her. “Because more than twenty years ago,” he said quietly, “she stood where I stand now.”

Emma felt like her bones had turned to ice. She looked at the woman who was gazing down at the werewolf, her wrinkled hand resting between the wolf’s ears. The wolf was looking up at her just as solemnly.

“A Watcher?” she said weakly. “She’s a Watcher?”

“Was,” Lucas said, looking back at her. “A long time ago.” She pushed herself off the stool and put her hands on her hips, the grave expression vanishing. “But that’s the past. We have more pressing problems to deal with. Lovers. Why are they coming here?”

Emma sank back into the shadow of the doorway, letting Gold explain about Regina’s mother, and the Mayor drawing power from the demons. She didn’t want or need to know about other Watchers, because other Watchers meant other Slayers, and there could only ever be one.

If Lucas had been a Watcher, that meant she’d had a Slayer.

But now, Emma was the Slayer.

Emma ran a shaking hand over her face.

She faced death every day when she went on patrol, but she’d never thought of the ones who went before. You did the job. You killed the demons. You lived for now. You didn’t think about the people who had died before you to make you who you were.

She flinched when something cold and wet pressed to her hand, and looked down to find the werewolf’s golden eyes looking back up at her.

Emma pulled her hand back. 

All she could think of was Henry. Henry tucked up in his bed, with no idea that one day, she would be gone. Not just taken to a different home, but gone, like Lucas's Slayer. Her throat felt like it was closing up, and she turned and raced through the shop, up the stairs.

The apartment was quiet, with the light from the living room illuminating the hall.

Emma forced herself to slow down. She couldn't just run in, wake him, scare him. She'd spent too long protecting him to know how precious sleep without nightmares was. The Sandman had helped him dream more gently, and she wasn't going to be the one to disturb that.

She crept to his room, opening the door as softly as she could.

Henry was a heap beneath the covers, though she could see one pale hand sticking out from under the blankets. She toed her boots off, and stepped lightly onto the wooden floor, approaching the bed. Henry didn't stir.

Gold hadn't known how close she was to her brother when they came to live with him. He'd given Henry a kid's bed, but they had slept in worse, huddled together. She touched his hand, squeezing his fingers to wake him gently.

It took a second, but the edge of the blanket rose, and he peered out.

"'Mma?"

"Hey," she whispered. "Got room in there?"

He smiled drowsily, lifting up the blanket, and she slipped in beside him. Her brother nestled against her, resting his head on her shoulder, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. "You smell of grass," he murmured.

"Yeah," she whispered, stroking his hair gently. "I went to the park for a walk with David."

Her brother made a small, sleepy sound, nestling closer to her. "Y'tired?"

"Very," she confessed in a tiny voice.

Henry wrapped his arm around her middle. "I'll look after you," he yawned, his head drooping back to her shoulder. "Love you."

Emma closed her eyes in the dark quiet. "You too," she whispered. 

 

____________________________________________

 

Lance wasn’t a fitness freak.

So what if he liked to go running? It wasn’t a crime. Not even if he had his grandpappy’s old police baton lashed to his back, in case any Storybrooke monsters came charging at him in the pre-dawn light. 

Storybrooke wasn’t a big place, and he wanted to be useful. Knowing what was out there, he couldn’t just sit by and let one person do the fighting. Emma had banned him from hunting by night, but she had no say on first thing in the morning. 

Or at least, she hadn’t said no yet, because she didn’t know about it.

Lance jobbed down main street, keeping his eyes open for anything suspicious, then headed out in the direction of the older parts of town, where the creepy buildings and the cemeteries were. If anything was going to be sneaking around before dawn, that would be the best place for it.

Not that he knew what he was going to do if a demon attacked him.

Hit it, he guessed.

He stopped dead when something loped out of a side street and stopped, sniffing the air. His heart was pounding wildly. It was the creature from the alley two nights before, the werewolf, if Mr Gold was to be believed. 

In the glow of the streetlamps, it looked even bigger than he remembered, and he felt glued to the spot, staring at it. It turned its shaggy head and looked towards him, and he realised too late that he wasn’t even hidden in the shadows. He remembered the phrase caught in the headlights. That was what he was. Frozen and staring. 

The werewolf didn’t charge. It didn’t attack. It didn’t even bare its teeth at him. It just gazed at him for a long while. It’s eyes were bright and gold, and calm. He knew that running would be pointless. It was less than ten feet away and could be on him in a second, if it wanted.

A shrill sound pierced the air.

The wolf pricked up its ears, and with a last glance at Lance, turned and raced away like a shadow into one of the nearby alleys. Lance released an explosive breath, and found his legs carrying him over to the alleyway, his hands fumbling to free to baton from his belt. 

It didn’t matter anyway. 

The wolf was gone.

“Good plan,” he said ruefully to himself. “Chase the werewolf into a dark alley. You’re going to be so much help to Emma when something eats you.” 

He glanced up at the sky, which was growing brighter with pre-dawn colour. They were still in the old part of the town, and Gold would want to know the wolf was nearby, he figured, so he headed in the direction of the store.

The light was on already, and Lance tapped on the door.

Gold opened it a moment later. “Mr Knight?”

“Hey.” Lance raised a hand in greeting. “Was out running. I think I saw the wolf nearby.”

Gold’s eyes flicked to the baton in his hand. “Running?” he echoed.

Lance flushed. “I’ve started carrying something, just in case,” he said. “I saw it about two blocks away. It saw me too, but something distracted it.”

Gold opened the door, motioning for him to enter. “I would imagine that would be the sun rising,” he said. “It would be awkward to find yourself in a strange place, unclothed, when you turned back to human form.”

Lance shook his head. “I don’t think it was the light,” he said. “I think someone… I don’t know, whistled it or something.”

Gold hesitated, then nodded. “They did,” he said.

“Wait, what?”

Gold motioned for him to follow. “We have some unexpected allies,” he said, leading him down a flight of stairs. An older woman was sitting there, apparently engrossed in a book, but the other person in the room made Lance stumble.

“Ruby?”

The young woman was fastening her belt, and looked up, startled. “Lance?”

“You’ve met?” Gold said.

Ruby nodded. “I thought he was a Lover. He and the other hunter were together. But he’s clean.”

Lance looked from her to Gold and back again. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

“Mr Knight,” Gold said tiredly. He looked haggard, drawn. “Let me introduce you to Anne Lucas.” The older woman looked up with a curt nod. “She is an ally and it appears you already know her companion.”

“As a girl in a coffee shop,” Lance said. “Not as a demon hunter.”

“Or werewolf,” Ruby added with a small, wry smile.

Lance stared at her. “You gotta be kidding.”

She held out a hand to him. “Let’s start over,” she said. “Hi. I’m Ruby and I promise not to eat you up.”

 

__________________________________

 

 

“A werewolf?”

David nodded. “And I’ve been told I’m not allowed to help out until they find it,” he said, rubbing at his chest. “Turns out that I’ve let Lovers so close to me so many times that I smell like them now.”

Mary Margaret shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, I knew about vampires and demons and things, but werewolves?”

“What’s she like?” Jeff asked.

They’d met up at the diner so David could fill them in on the latest developments. David hadn’t planned to invite Jeff, but Mary Margaret said she didn’t feel right leaving Jeff on his own, when he was still recovering.

“I didn’t meet her in human form,” David replied. “But Lance is freaking out that he made googly eyes at someone who tried to eat him two nights ago.”

“Isn’t that the best way to start a relationship?” Mary Margaret said wryly.

“But googly-eyes means there has to be something to googly at,” Jeff pointed out. “That must mean she’s hot.”

“And Lance is pretty particular about girls,” David said, “so she must be smart too.”

“Does she have superpowers?” Jeff demanded eagerly. “I mean apart from the whole turning-into-a-wolf thing? Does she heal fast? Or jump really far?”

“I didn’t stop to ask, while I was running for my life,” David said.

Jeff sprawled back in his chair. “I wonder if she’d bite me.”

“No!” Mary Margaret said, jabbing a finger towards him. “We have enough trouble keeping track of you when you’re a human, Jeff. No turning into a wolf and going running off into the forest.”

Jeff made a face, then looked at David. “So there’s another Lover in town?”

David nodded grimly. “Gold called me to tell me to stay indoors tonight,” he said. “He said the wolf can track them, but only if I’m not running around, smelling of Lover.” He looked down at his chest, thinking of all the scars and the blood. “Apparently, I’d only get in the way.”

“It’s just one night,” Mary Margaret said quietly, covering his hand with her own. “Maybe they’ll be able to find where they’re all hiding out, if there are more of them. That’s good, right?”

David sighed and nodded. “I guess,” he said. “It’s just… I’ve spent so many years fighting these things. It feels like I should be doing something. If there’s a Lover around, I can’t help feeling like I should be there, fighting it.”

She moved her hand and laid it against his chest. “You’ve fought enough,” she said softly. “You need to step back.”

“Yeah,” Jeff added, stealing one of Mary Margaret’s fries. “If you’re starting to smell like demon, that’s not good. You need to let the scent fade. Otherwise, all kinds of other nasty things might come after you.”

David touched Mary Margaret’s hand where it lay on his chest. “Or maybe it could be useful,” he said. “If I smell of demon, maybe I can use that to get closer to other demons and take them out.”

Mary Margaret and Jeff exchanged a look.

“David,” Mary Margaret said with a calm that wasn’t reflected in her eyes. “One day, you are going to realise that you don’t need to be the lone gunman anymore.” She knelt up in the seat and touched his cheek. “You don’t need to go all death-or-glory on us.”

“Emma would kill you,” Jeff added. “And not in a fun way. In a tear your arms off and beat you around the head with them way. She’s the Slayer. Her job’s protecting people like us. If you got yourself killed because you wanted to be a hero, it’d…” He trailed off, unable to find the words to express what he wanted to say.

“It’d be bad,” Mary Margaret finished. “She’d blame herself for letting you go, and for not saving you.” Her thumb brushed his cheek. “Just sit back for a little while, okay? For her sake as well as your own.”

David gazed at her for a long while, then reluctantly nodded. “Just for a little while.”

 

_____________________________________

 

 

Emma felt strange.

It was one thing to go on patrol supervised by Gold, but Lucas and the werewolf were with her this time. The wolf could track the scent of the young Lover they had followed to town. It was very young, Lucas informed her and Gold, and hadn’t perfected the bloodless feed yet.

Gold was at home, watching out for Henry, but it didn’t change the fact that Emma was on patrol with a Watcher.

Lucas was a hardass. She carried the crossbow and gun like she was born with them in her hands. She didn’t seem anything like Gold at all. He could teach the use of all the weapons, but Emma had never once seen him out in the field, except to supervise her. Lucas looked like she’d been fighting her whole life.

They made their way after the wolf, who was running ahead, sniffing at the ground and the walls. It was weird to think that only three hours earlier, she’d sat down and had dinner with the woman that was now the wolf.

Lucas and Emma were side by side.

“You’ve got questions,” Lucas said finally, without looking at her. She had the crossbow hanging down against her right hip, her left hand resting casually on her holstered gun. Her eyes were all over the place, watching for danger. 

Emma hesitated, then looked at her. “How’d’you know?”

Lucas’s lips twitched. “You’re a Slayer,” she said. “Most of you don’t get a chance to know about what came before you, but you always wonder.”

“Did…” Emma faltered. “Your Slayer. Did she?”

Lucas nodded. “Anita,” she said. “She was a good girl. Too stubborn by half. I’d never known a Slayer before her. Every Watcher who is given a Slayer never met the Slayers before, so they go in with a blank slate and only the handbook to teach ‘em. We were together nearly three years.”

Emma looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

Lucas snorted. “What for, girl? You didn’t kill her.”

Emma’s mouth felt dry when she asked. “What did?”

“Same thing that always kills Slayers in the end,” Lucas said, her voice serious. “Overconfidence. She got cocky. Thought she was indestructible.” Lucas glanced at her. “Never forget this isn’t a game, girl.” She studied Emma’s face. “You don’t seem the type, though. You’ve got someone to fight for.”

Emma flushed, remembering how often Gold had told her she was pushing too hard, too fast, stretching herself to the limit to keep Henry safe. It wasn’t overconfidence, but it was going to get the same result. “Didn’t she? I mean, she had you.”

“And Ruby,” Lucas said.

Emma stopped short. “What?”

Lucas nodded ahead to the wolf. “Anita wasn’t exactly what you’d call an innocent girl,” she said. “She knew what she wanted and she’d take it given the chance.” Lucas shook her head with a sad sigh. “She didn’t tell me she was pregnant until she got bit by a werewolf.”

Emma stared at her. “Your Slayer was a werewolf?”

“Mm.” Lucas motioned for her to keep walking. “And Ruby got it in her blood. But she was never bit. That’s why the human part of her is stronger.” They turned off the road and into the park, following the wolf. “Anita got herself killed before Ruby even hit a year old.”

Emma looked ahead at the wolf. “And you took her in?” she said quietly, wondering if that would be the role Gold would play, if anything happened to her, if they were allowed to do that.

Lucas snorted. “No,” she said. “I was pensioned off to recover. They said Ruby was being adopted. I wasn’t meant to see her again.” The lines in her face seemed to deepen when she frowned. “Took me months to find out they’d taken her in to the council. Kept her penned up so they could study a werewolf.”

“You got her out,” Emma said quietly. “You went and got her out.”

“You’ve done the same from your brother, sounds like,” Lucas said. She smiled briefly. “Got her out, may have used some brute force and some demons, but you do what you have to, to protect your kids. Been keeping under the council radar ever since.”

“But you’re helping us,” Emma said. “Gold’s still with the council.”

“Gold’s got his own issues with them,” Lucas said. “After what happened to his son, he’s never been one hundred percent there for him. Can’t see him calling them up and telling them I’ve come out of the wood work.”

Old Slayers and watchers and werewolves, she could deal with, but that was news that made Emma stare at her even more. “Gold had a son?”

Lucas looked at her sympathetically. “He’s not exactly forthcoming about what happened, but I hear things,” she said. She held up a hand. Ahead of them, Ruby was motionless, her hackles rising. “Looks like we’ve found what we’re looking for. You good to get any collateral out of the way?”

Emma pulled a knife from the sheath on her back. “You got it.”

 

 

______________________________________________

 

 

“Well, that’s interesting, isn’t it?”

Ginny Holmes, the Mayor’s aide shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. It was always difficult to tell when the Mayor was genuinely pleased or upset. If he was upset, people tended to get hurt, and usually it was the closest person in the vicinity.

“Looks like a werewolf, sir,” she said.

“I can see that,” Mayor Spencer replied, gazing at the photographs on the computer screen, flipping from one image to the next. “We got rid of the last wolf that came to town, as I recall. He made a handsome rug.”

Ginny nodded uncertainly. “We would send out people to deal with her,” she said. “She and the old woman have taken rooms at the guest house. It wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of them, if you want.”

The Mayor skimmed back through the images, pausing at one of the pictures of the young Slayer and the old woman.

“Do we know who she is?” he asked, tapping the screen.

“Not yet, but we’re working on it,” Ginny replied. “She and the wolf only arrived in town a few days ago. The Slayer took her to Gold’s shop. I don’t know if he knows who she is, but from what the whispers say, he didn’t look happy to see her.”

Spencer gazed at the image of the Slayer and the old woman.

The Slayer was a brash, strong-willed child, but something about the old woman looked like it had shaken her, and anything that was making the Slayer wary and uncomfortable was something that had to be encouraged. If she was distracted by some old woman and her pet wolf, then Spencer was quite happy to let the state of affairs continue.

“Keep them under observation,” he said.

“Sir, they killed one of the newest Lovers in town.”

Spencer waved a hand dismissively. “You know that if they’re stupid enough to let themselves get caught, they’re not worth having,” he said. “Consider the Slayer their entrance examination. If they can avoid her attention and survive in Storybrooke, they might yet prove themselves useful.”

Ginny nodded again. “Same protocol as before, then, sir?” she said. 

“More will be arriving soon,” the Mayor said, rising from his chair. “If they survive our Slayer and her new friends for at least a week, then they can be included. If not…” He picked up a polished bone from his shelf and turned it over in his hands. “I’m sure I can find other uses for the remains.” He smiled unpleasantly. “It really is a buyer’s market out there, Ginny. Someone will buy anything, and whether the Lovers live or die, we can find some way to profit from it.”

Ginny’s mouth was dry. 

He always did see the bigger picture. All she could see was a girl with superpowers taking down his allies, but he didn’t see allies. He saw canon fodder, ammunition, fresh meat to be sold on the open market. No loss was a real loss to him, and that was what made him more dangerous than just a demon.

He brought humanity into the picture.

Demons didn’t think the same way humans did. 

Demons followed their nature, but humans had imagination and lots of it. It was one of the reasons that demons had interbred with them: to try and get fresh and new ideas. Humans and their sparkling little minds could come up with horrors that demons could not have imagined.

Humans, she knew, were cruel.

“Our… associates might not like having a new enemy,” she offered quietly.

The Mayor nodded. “That may be so,” he agreed, “and they can put up a fight if confronted, but I’m not about to waste time and bodies unleashing an attack. She thinks that this is just about the Lovers. I want to keep it that way for now.”

“As you say, sir,” Ginny said. “Shall we issue a notice, to make sure our people don’t go looking for trouble?”

“Another one?” Spencer sighed, waving her away. “If it’s necessary.”

Ginny withdrew from the room. 

As much as the Mayor had done for them, giving them a safe haven to gather their strength, he didn’t understand them. He didn’t understand the mystique held of killing a Slayer and consuming her heart. 

Many demon clans would practically worship one of their own if they managed to take down a Slayer. To have one running around in front of them, especially now when she was off-guard because of intruders into her life, was like dropping bloody meet into a tank of sharks.

Still, the promise of what was to come was enough to make them retract their claws and hold their peace. When the time came, it would be a slaughter, and they could wait for that, if they were patient. 

 

____________________________________________

 

 

He stood up from the bench as soon as he saw her.

Ruby Lucas crossed the road to the library. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.

Lance smiled. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I left a lady high and dry on our first date?” he said, offering her the blood-red rose he had brought with him.

“First date?” she said, a touch of mirth in her eyes. She sniffed at the rose. “Does that mean there’ll be more?”

He offered her his arm. “I’m willing if you are,” he said. “But maybe we should see if you like me after number one, first.”

She blushed, and Lance grinned, leading her on to the restaurant. She was maybe five years older than him, but he liked that she wasn’t all ego and arrogance. There was something sweet about her, like she’d never been spoiled before. He was determined to change that.

Storybrooke wasn’t exactly known for high class dining. The table they were given had a checked red and white table cloth and one leg shorter than the others, but it had a decent view of the park and was as private as he’d hoped.

“This is nice,” Ruby said, as she picked up the menu.

“This place?” Lance said doubtfully. “I mean, it’s the best we could get, but…”

“I meant going out for dinner with a nice guy,” she interrupted with a smile. “It doesn’t happen often.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “How can people miss you?” he said.

She shrugged, lowering her eyes to the menu. “I might not look like a werewolf all the time,” she said, “but something about me scares people off.”

Lance reached across the table and touched the back of her hand. He wasn’t surprised when she flinched, as if she wasn’t used to anyone approaching her or touching her. “Then that’s their loss,” he said.

She raised her eyes to his. “You know my deepest darkest secret,” she said quietly, setting the menu down. “Doesn’t it scare you?”

“The werewolf thing?” Lance hesitated, considering it, then shook his head. “Not really. I’ve seen some weird stuff since Emma came to town. Knowing you’re big and bad enough to take care of yourself actually makes me feel better.” He squeezed her hand. “God knows I can’t take care of myself.”

She snorted. “I know that’s not true. You’ve got a pretty good turn of speed.”

Lance made a face. “Just promise me you won’t chase me up a fire escape again, because that’s the kind of fun I can live without.”

Ruby wrinkled her nose at him. “I can’t help it if you and your buddy smelled bad to me.”

“Excuse me!” Lance exclaimed in mock-indignation. “That was all him! I’ll have you know I’m a very hygienic person.”

Ruby laughed, leaning across the table and sniffed. “Yeah,” she said. “You’ll do.”

Lance knew he was smiling like an idiot. “Same to you.”

Ruby smiled at him like it was Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be a challenge for the sheer amount of AU going on for everyone while trying to maintain the essence of the characters as they are in Once: Emma and Henry being siblings and together from the word go, Mary Margaret being somewhere between MM and Snow as she might have been if she had been raised by a loving father in Storybrooke, Jefferson being as he might have been as a teen in the Enchanted forest with a side of wacky eccentric because he knows there are other worlds going on around him. Gold with a mysterious past isn't entirely a stretch, mind you ;)
> 
> Hopefully, this isn't all too jarring. If you have any questions, feel free to ask :)


End file.
